Before You Go
by William Easley
Summary: Dipper and Mabel have two weeks left before the summer of 2015 ends. They're all set to make some wonderful memories. And, oh, yes, a friend is having vampire trouble. Wendip alert...
1. Chapter 1

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **1: Let's Spend the Day Together**

As though to make up for their late hours on Saturday, Wendy pushed Dipper hard on Monday morning. They ran all-out for a good six miles—and even in the early morning, the day was shaping up to be a hot one. By the time they walked back uphill to the Shack, Dipper was trudging. "Come on, man," Wendy teased. "You look half dead!"

"Stop reading my mind," Dipper panted. "Agh, I'm dripping! I'll bet I lost like two pounds just in sweat!"

"Do you good," Wendy said. "Get the toxins out of your system. Let's hit the showers. I got a big day planned!"

"Does it involve collapsing?" Dipper asked hopefully.

Wendy playfully punched his arm. "Not a chance! We're gonna have a morning at the pool—"

"Wait, wait," Dipper said. "The pool? I thought you were banned for life."

"Eh, not any longer. Even Poolcheck forgives and forgets if you give him a couple-three years to think it over. Anyway, we're gonna spend two hours at the pool—it opens today at ten—and then we'll drive out to the lake and have a picnic. Then maybe in the afternoon the Arcade, or shopping at the mall, a movie, whatever. And special treat, for the early evening, we're gonna go up to Aunt Sallie's farm for a home-cooked dinner."

"Man," Dipper groaned. "After the weekend we had, I'd rather just chill with you in front of the TV!"

"We're making the most of the time we have together. Anyway, social obligations, man," Wendy said.

Dipper opened the door of the Shack. "After you."

"That's what I love about you, Dipper," Wendy said with a grin. "You're always such a gentleman when a sweaty lady is involved!"

They showered and joined the Ramirezes and Mabel at the breakfast table. "Did you fix it up?" Mabel asked Wendy anxiously.

"Oh, yeah," Wendy said. "I talked to Mrs. O'Grady this morning. Teek gets this one day off from being grounded, provided I do all the driving. He's, like, grounded from driving, except to work and back, until next Monday, but, hey, I'm his supervisor and all, and she understands that you guys need some winding-down time."

Dipper, who'd imagined an idyllic day alone with Wendy, asked, "Is Teek going with us?"

"Sure is, Brobro!" Mabel said. "And besides that, I got a whole slate of end-of-the-summer activities for this week. Wendy, will you be able to make the Last Sleepover? Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica will all be here on Saturday night!"

"I'll be there, Mabes," Wendy said. "Soos, would you pass the scrambled eggs, please?"

"Sure thing, dawg!" Soos handed the colorful Mexican bowl still half-full of fluffy yellow eggs. "Man, it makes me kinda, you know, sad to hear all this end-of-the-summer stuff. Harmony and Soosie are sure gonna miss you, Hambone!"

"I know," Mabel said with a sigh. "And I'll miss them, and you, and Melody, and Abuelita. Also Widdles and Waddles! And Gompers! And Daryl."

" _Daryl_?" Dipper asked, pausing as he served himself some eggs.

"Don't you remember, Dipdip? Darryl is a spot of mold on one of the attic beams," Mabel said. "He has an interesting shape. Daryl is my favorite."

Dipper couldn't think of anything to add to that. They talked about what was coming up for the twins—their junior year in high school. Mabel said she hoped to improve her PSAT score in the tests that they would take in October—she had high verbal, but only middling-high math scores. "Ninetieth percentile overall," she explained.

"Top ten per cent? That's pretty good, Mabes!" Wendy said.

Mabel made a face. "Yeah, but Diploma here had a ninety-six. The difference was all in math. Anyway, I'm gonna work with a tutor to try to pull the score up to match my Brobro's."

"Wendy," Melody said, "didn't you take the SAT last year?"

"Yeah, but I'm taking it again this fall, just in case. It's no big deal," Wendy said.

"So, what did _you_ score, dawg?" Soos asked.

Blushing, Wendy murmured, "Uh—ninety-sixth percentile."

Mabel gave her a pop-eyed, accusing glance. " _What?_ Same as Broseph on the PSAT? I smell dirty feet at the crossroads! Is this you two doing the mental voodoo you two do too well?"

"Set that to music," Dipper suggested as he buttered his toast, "and you've got a song."

"Yeah, that's part of it," Wendy admitted. "But it's not cheating. Dipper just kinda gave me mental tutoring in math, and that helped. But another part is that I'd already begun taking night college classes. That helps too. By the way, I'm gonna be taking college classes three nights a week in the fall, maybe four nights in the spring, depending on how it goes with finishing up my high-school graduation requirements."

"You are one very smart girl with such red hair," Abuelita said approvingly. "Is a wonderful country where even a girl from a small town can get a college education. Was not so in Mexico when I was young. I had no such chance, nor my sisters. You, Wendy, you must take advantage of your opportunities!"

"I mean to," Wendy assured Abuelita.

After breakfast, the three teens killed a little time playing mini-golf on the three-hole (but nine-approach) course that Dipper and Mabel had made on the side lawn a couple of years earlier. Mabel won very handily, with three strokes under Wendy's score and seventeen under Dipper's. "Champion once again! Still got it!" Mabel proclaimed.

"Yeah, but Waddles picked up your ball and dropped it in the hole that one time," Dipper pointed out. "You had outside help!"

"Waddles is a part of the course," Mabel explained, her arm around the now-immense pig's fat neck. He grunted in agreement.

Then Teek's mom dropped him off, and he came in and thanked Wendy for having a heart-to-heart with his mother. They all got their swimming gear together, and Wendy drove them to the Gravity Falls pool. At ten o'clock, the thermometer already stood at ninety-four. On a Monday morning, the pool wasn't yet crowded—a class of six-year-olds were nervously getting some swimming instruction in the shallow end.

"Ugh!" Wendy muttered as they went in. "Look who's lifeguarding."

Dipper glanced at the tower seat. A beefy-looking guy with six-pack abs and blond hair leaned back, oversized sunglasses hiding his eyes, a white vest-type undershirt stretched tight over his brawny chest. "Wah-wow!" Mabel said. "No offense, Teek of my heart, but I just gotta say wah-wah-wah-wow!"

"Who's . . . that?" Dipper asked, already hating the guy.

"Stony Davidson," Wendy said in a low, irritated voice. "I dated him for about three weeks. He's a jerk."

"Yeah, maybe," Mabel agreed "But he's a jerk with muscles on his _ears_!"

They went past him to the locker rooms to change into their swim gear, and Davidson didn't pay any particular attention to the four as they walked by. As they put on their trunks, Teek asked, "Anything wrong, Dipper?"

"Aw, it's just—sometimes we run into Wendy's exes, and they generally put me down."

"Don't think you have to worry," Teek said. "From what I hear at school, Stony's in love with himself!"

When they all came back out, Wendy wore her red one-piece, Mabel a modest hot-pink two-piece, Teek and Dipper regulation baggy trunks, black and Navy blue, respectively. Mabel showed off by leaping straight in the deep end and then swimming underwater all the way across the pool and back before surfacing. Dipper eased into the water and splashed around—Wendy clucked her tongue and said, "Man, it's a good thing Poolcheck didn't make you prove you could swim when you applied to be Assistant Lifeguard!"

"I can dog-paddle," Dipper said defensively.

"Yeah, well, lifeguarding usually calls for a lit-tle more than that," Wendy said. "Tell you what, next summer, dude, I'm gonna teach you how to swim right. Try not to drown in the meantime!"

"I did all right in the ocean," Dipper said, resting against the side of the pool.

"True, but we did have life-jackets on," Wendy reminded him. She glanced around and then gave him a quick kiss. "But I'm so glad you were there, man. I'd have never made it back alive alone. Saved my life, Dip."

"Had to," Dipper said, smiling. "You're part of my heart."

"You're getting mushy," Wendy warned.

"Just two weeks left," Dipper said.

"Let's not think about that today."

Now that she wasn't suffering from hypothermia, Wendy was at home in the water and swam beautifully. Dipper felt content just to watch her, her red hair trailing like a comet's tail as she took long, graceful, powerful strokes. Mabel and Teek played around—she rode on his shoulders, they did the Marco Polo bit. A few other swimmers came in as the time went on, and by noon the pool had a small crowd in the water and relaxing on the lawn chairs. Mabel proclaimed that she was starving, so she, Teek, Dipper, and Wendy got out, dressed, and got ready to picnic.

Since Wendy's long hair took forever to dry, Mabel had braided it for her in the girls' locker room. It was an unusual look, but Dipper liked it—it let him see his Lumberjack Girl in a whole new light, and to him she was beautiful in any light. They drove to Lake Gravity Falls, where fishermen and women were out in boats, families were wading, splashing, and swimming out to the float and back, and, like them, a few people were having picnics. Though the temperature had edged up almost to a hundred, it seemed cooler on the lake shore.

They claimed a grill, loaded it with charcoal, and Teek cooked some of his delicious specialty burgers. Dipper had found a table with some shade courtesy of a tall pine, and they sat on the splintery old benches and ate, drank Pitt Cola, and reminisced. Mabel started going on about Mermando and her rushing him to the lake so he could, eventually, make his way back to the sea.

Teek reminded her, "But he's a married merman now."

"Yeah," Mabel replied. "But—I don't mean anything bad by this, Teek—a girl always remembers her first kiss. What was _your_ first kiss, Wendy?"

"Oh, girl," Wendy said, "I only started counting at my first peppermint one."

Dipper felt as if he were glowing.

After the picnic, they drove to The Dalles, where they caught a Revengers movie—one that had almost finished its theatrical run, _The Rage of Nutrol_ , which featured Steel Guy, Major USA, The Bulk, Mantis Woman, Arrowshooter, all the gang, in fact. It was loud, fast, and full of CGI. Fortunately, that late in the run—it had been in theaters since May—the film didn't attract a full auditorium, because Mabel got carried away and did some loud cheerleading: "C'mon, that guy's a wimp! Brucie, bulk out and SMASH! You can do it! Pick up that semi and throw it! _Throw it,_ I say!"

Wendy leaned over and whispered to Teek, "Maybe you need to find a way to keep her a little bit quieter."

"Yeah!" Mabel was cheering. "Steel Guy, you're the man! Use that suit and fly! Fly! Fl—mph! Mph? Mmmm."

A few scattered audience members clapped. Mabel didn't seem to mind. She was busy kissing Teek.

* * *

Aunt Sallie's farmhouse was new to Teek. Mabel gave him a guided tour of the animals (the chickens still recognized her as their leader), while Sallie quizzed Wendy about her dad: "Danny following the doctors' orders?"

"Oh, yeah," Wendy said as she and Dipper helped set the table. "His leg's well now. He's doing everything the way he used to before he busted it. Worst thing is he got behind on the building schedule, but the two main things are the Pines families' houses, and they cut him all kinds of slack 'cause they know they can trust him to do the best job."

Then Sallie wanted to know the details, and Wendy explained how a combination of Manly Dan's broken leg, bad weather, a tangle of missed shipments and finally the bankruptcy of the fixtures-supply house that was providing all of the plumbing and electrical materials, had stopped construction temporarily. "Lucky, though, he got a contract from Junior's company for some prime timber, so while all that's clearing up, he's been lumberjackin' most of the summer. I think that builds up his leg better than anything else."

"You make sure he takes care of himself," Aunt Sallie said. "Danny thinks he's never liable to hurt himself. Gets too confident, that's his problem." She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled. "You two are gonna miss each other a lot, I bet."

"Miss each other bad," Dipper agreed.

She chuckled. "Just makes it sweeter when you see each other again." Aunt Sallie thoroughly approved of Wendy's choice of boyfriend, which heartened Dipper—he was never very self-confident, even though his track record, on and off the track, should have made him more self-assured. Sallie patted his hand. "Well, as you two go your own ways over the next months, just remember—'Journeys end in lovers meeting.' Bill said that, you know."

"Bill Cipher?" Dipper yelped, startled.

Aunt Sallie stared at him. "Bill Shakespeare. _Twelfth Night."_

"Oh," Dipper said, his face showing relief. "I—uh, I never read that one."

"Ring the dinner bell, Wendy," Sallie said. "Let's eat it while it's hot."

* * *

They stayed long enough for a delicious home-cooked meal, on farm time, a lot earlier than they'd normally eat, and then helped wash up. Wendy had promised Teek's mom to drop him off before seven o'clock—he technically was still serving his grounding sentence—so they had just started to leave when the phone rang.

Sallie answered it and said, "Yes, they're here. Wait up, kids. Sure thing. Mabel, it's for you."

"Me?" Mabel asked, surprised. She took the phone. "Hi, this is Mabel talking to you with her mouth."

"Hambone!"

"Soos?"

"Yeah, I been trying and trying to reach you guys. I been calling and calling and finally I thought to call Mr. Corduroy and he said I might reach you at this number, and—dawg, your cell phones just go to voice mail."

"Doy!" Mabel said. "Sorry, we went to a movie and turned them off. I guess we forgot to turn them back on. What's up?"

"Dude, the police called looking for you."

"Me?" Mabel asked. "I didn't do it! They can't prove I did it! What did I do?"

"Nothing, but you're like a witness. They need to talk to you 'cause the Northwests are frantic. Hambone, Pacifica never came home from Woodstick! She's like—missing! Or some junk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **2: Vampire Hunters**

They had rushed back to Gravity Falls from the farm. In the late afternoon, Mabel gave Teek a goodbye kiss beside the car, stopped at the curb in front of his house. "My mom's gonna see us," he murmured, holding her hands. "She always peeks out to see who's stopped."

"Don't care if she does," Mabel said, giving him another quick one. "Tell her I'm your favorite girl. If she scolds you, let me talk to her. She's gotta know we're gonna miss each other this fall. Oh, well, see you tomorrow at work! Wish you could go with us."

"So do I," Teek said, patting her hand. "Next year I'll try never to be grounded!"

He opened the car door for Mabel, she slipped into the front seat, taking the shotgun position next to Dipper, and then Teek waved and went inside to face his mom as Wendy backed into the driveway and turned back toward the sheriff's office. It was a bright, clear afternoon, hot and breathless. Wendy parked in a slot right in front of the building—Gravity Falls had once had parking meters, but recently had done away with them to encourage shoppers—and they got out and walked up the granite steps and into the building. It smelled like pine-scented cleaner and sweat inside.

Blubs and Durland weren't in, but Deputy Mazer, a tall woman, trim and not exactly pretty but not ugly either, was there, and she was better at policing than Blubs and Durland put together and multiplied by five. She took Mabel back into an interrogation room. It was a bare ten-by-ten cube with a flickery, buzzy fluorescent light overhead, drab, bare green cracked-plaster walls, a gray-and-dingy-white checkerboard linoleum floor, and a battered, coffee-ringed table with three unmatched wooden chairs, and except for a digital voice recorder on the table, that was all.

"Sit there," Mazer said, pulling out a wobbly-legged chair for Mabel, and she herself took the chair opposite. The policewoman settled, started the recorder, and said, "Informal statement taken August 16, time 1847. This is Deputy M.W. Mazer, questioning witness Mabel Pines, age sixteen—"

"Fifteen," Mabel corrected. "My birthday's not until the thirty-first."

"Correction, age fifteen. Miss Pines, for the record state your name and where you're living."

"Um. Mabel Pines, and my family lives in Piedmont, California, but I'm staying at the Mystery Shack for the summer, which my gru—uh, great-uncles Stanley and Stanford Pines, own."

Mazer's voice was slow and patient: "We need the address."

"Sorry, that's 618 Gopher Road, here in Gravity Falls."

"Now, we are looking for Miss Pacifica Elise Northwest. I understand you were one of the last people to see her on Saturday night?"

Mabel rubbed her upper arm, feeling guilty. "Yes, I suppose so. It was at the Woodstick festival. It was in between acts, and I had gone to the, uh, you know, the portable potties and on the way back I met and was talking to a boy I know, Dirk Raventree, and I saw Pacifica in the audience and called her over and introduced them, and my brother Di—Mason, I mean, and his girlfriend Wendy Corduroy had VIP seats, but they'd already left for the evening, so I asked them, I mean Dirk and Pacifica, if they'd like to sit in my brother's and Wendy's seats together with Teek—uh, T.K. O'Grady, he's my boyfriend, and me, you know, in the VIP box, and they did."

"What time was this?"

Mabel blinked. "Uh, I suppose about ten-forty, ten-forty-five. The Tombstones' set had ended, and the one after that had finished, too. Anyway, we sat with them until the concert ended, and that was a few minutes after one in the morning."

"Where does Mr. Raventree—is that the name? Yes? Where does he live? Do you have an address or a phone number?"

"Um, no, I don't really know him that well. I think he and his folks live in the Valley somewhere, but, you know, not in town."

"What was Miss Northwest wearing when you last saw her?"

"Um, let me think, a white lacy top over a lavender shirt, Gucci stone-washed jeans, black flats, uh—silver hoop earrings."

"Gucci jeans?"

"Gucci, yes. That's her favorite brand."

"How did she act?"

"She was, I guess, happy? She enjoyed the music, and she and Dirk talked together a lot. She kidded and joked around, you know. The way you do when you meet a new guy."

Mazer didn't look as if she met many new guys. Without commenting on Mabel's observation, she asked, "Did you see where she went when the concert ended?"

Mabel shook her head. "Sorry, no. Me and Teek, uh, T.K. walked to where he'd parked his car, and that was a long way from the concert, and then he drove me home to the Shack. The Mystery Shack. I think Pacifica had said she'd driven to the concert—she's sixteen and has her license—but she came alone, 'cause her boyfriend and his dad are off in Washington, 'cause his dad wants him to go to Gonzaga University, which is where he—his dad, I mean—went, and so they were there for a weekend visit to the campus."

"What's her boyfriend's name?"

"Adam Beedle. His dad is Franklin Beedle. He's—"

"Judge Beedle?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes."

The deputy scribbled a note. Then she said, "We already have a description of Miss Northwest's car and the license-plate number, so I don't need to ask about that. If she and this Dirk left together, where do you think they'd go?"

"I—don't know," Mabel said. "I mean, I don't think they'd get up to anything, you know. I mean, no, um, sex or anything. Pacifica's not that way. Not with a guy she just met and all. I'm sorry, but I can't give you any clearer idea. I don't know where Dirk lives. I just ran into him a few years ago, when I was twelve. We saw each other, uh, not socially or, you know, romantically or anything, a few times since then. Just, you know, a sort of 'Hi, how have you been, what's up' kind of conversation, that's all."

"Describe Dirk for me."

Mabel closed her eyes. "OK, he's sixteen. He's about five feet nine, I guess, real slender, maybe 120, 130 pounds? He has a long face with big dark eyes, so dark blue they look black in certain lights. He's got jet-black hair, and he wears it long, I mean over his ears and about collar length in the back. His nose is kinda long and straight. He's got high cheekbones, sort of arched black eyebrows, a sharp kind of chin, and he's very pale. He usually wears, like, black jeans and a black tee, sometimes with a black jacket or long-sleeved shirt that he leaves open, over the tee. Uh, very sharp-looking boots, always glossy. Uh, leather belt, gold buckle. That's what he was wearing at the concert. The, uh, tee didn't have any logo that I could see. Dirk doesn't have any scars or moles or tats that I ever saw. His voice is deep and soft, sort of, oh, like if a leopard could talk? Like that."

Deputy Mazer had a few more questions, but after taking Mabel's cell phone number and making sure that neither Dipper nor Wendy had seen Pacifica, she thanked Mabel. She checked the phone number against her notes, and then she said, "We tried several times to reach you this afternoon. Why didn't you answer?"

"'Cause Teek and my brother and his girlfriend had double-dated to a movie in The Dalles, and we all turned off our phones and then after the movie we were talking about it, and we forgot to turn 'em back on." Mabel explained how Soos had finally tracked them down.

The deputy told her she could go, and Mabel joined Dipper and Wendy. "Let's roll," Wendy said, standing up. Dipper looked antsy and apprehensive, but Wendy was her laid-back self.

"What are we gonna do?" Mabel asked on the way out to the car.

"Find Pacifica, dude," Wendy said. "The Mystery Twins in action."

"Mystery Team," Dipper said, but he didn't sound excited—more worried than anything.

* * *

Out in the car, Dipper told Mabel that he'd made some calls. "Nobody saw her after Woodstick," he said. "She must have gone off with that vampire guy—"

"Dirk," Mabel said. "But he wouldn't, you know, _abduct_ her! He never abducted me!"

"Mabes," Wendy reminded her gently, "you said that Dirk had a thing for blondes."

Mabel bit her lip. "Yeah, I did."

"OK," Dipper said. "This is important, and if Dirk hasn't done anything, it won't be a problem for him, but we have to know, Mabel—where did you meet Dirk?"

"Um, you know, remember that old ruined church where the entrance to the amberized dinosaurs are—?"

"The Sap Hole?" Dipper asked, using Stan's name for the place. "Up in the hills? How in the heck did you get like ten miles away from the Shack?"

"I went there one morning when I was looking for unicorns!" Mabel wailed. "Back then I didn't know what jerks they were! But I misread the map in Journal Three, so I went the wrong way and kind of got lost. OK, so just before you get to the old church, there's like a small cemetery off to the left, and I went there to sit on a tombstone and rest until I felt like going back home—it's like a three-hour walk, one way!—and as I was sitting there, Dirk and his friend came by and came over to talk with me."

"This was in the daytime?" Wendy asked.

"Oh, yeah, about one or two in the afternoon. Nice day, sunny, not hot like today."

Sounding skeptical, Wendy asked, "And these guys were vampires and they were out in the sun?"

Dipper said, "Could happen, Wendy. The whole idea that vampires can't stand the sun is a myth. It started in the movies— _Nosferatu,_ a 1922 German film that ripped off the novel _Dracula_. The movie makers wanted some way to zap the vampire fast, so they dreamed up that he would explode if the rays of the rising sun hit him. That's not in the book, or in any vampire lore."

"They didn't sparkle, either," Mabel said, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Wendy said, "OK, that's our starting place. Now we got a couple hours of light left. Here we go."

* * *

On the drive up into the hills, Mabel added that after that first meeting, over the years she had seen Dirk alone four or five times, but never up near the old church. "I'd run into him at the mall, you know, or in the park. He never looked any older or any different. He'd always stop and ask what was up, and we'd chat for five or ten minutes. I was kinda interested in him at first, but—" she shrugged. "He wasn't into me, I guess. He was always nice and polite, though."

Dipper slapped his forehead. "Never get close to a vampire!" he said. "That's, like, Rule Number 1! They may _seem_ nice, but you can't trust them!"

"Just like you can't trust Gnomes, huh?" Mabel asked, aggressively. "Or Manotaurs? Or the Multibear? Or werewolves? Or even Grunkle Stan? Huh?"

Dipper flinched. "I didn't mean it that way," he muttered. "But vampires are different. They look on people as prey! You know, vampires are like, creatures of the night!"

"Chill, guys," Wendy said. "If anybody knows where Pacifica is, it's probably this Dirk dude, vampire or human or whatever he is. We'll see if we can track him down and ask him."

They spotted the dilapidated ruins of the church and the old cemetery across the road from it not long before sunset. The abandoned graveyard had been long neglected, and the tombstones stood like islands in a sea of knee-high weeds. Mabel led them over and showed them where she had been sitting when she first met Dirk—a thick, weathered old granite tablet, not very tall. According to the time-blurred inscription, it was the resting place of Arthur Quincey O'Brian, 1859-1919, and his wife Susanna Mecc O'Brian, 1865-1920.

Those were about the most recent graves, too, out of about forty. Wandering through the cemetery, Dipper saw other stones with death dates of 1877, 1883, 1889, 1890, and up to about 1910. "Wonder why they abandoned the place," he said.

"Probably 'cause the church closed," Wendy said, pointing back toward the road. The old shattered church was on the far side, in ruinous condition with the roof fallen in. "Bet this was the town where the mining company housed workers and their families, miners and maybe the engineers who worked on the old railroad and stuff. I know there used to be a mineshaft around here somewhere, and in the woods across the road you can find the foundations of the old houses."

"My theory," Dipper said, "is that the miners cut into the place where the dinosaurs are preserved in amber, and that scared them all off."

"Dirk!" Mabel yelled, her hands beside her mouth. "Hey, Dirk! It's me, Mabel! I need to talk to you!" No answer came except for bird calls and the inevitable sound of woodpeckers chipping away at trees.

"Guys," Dipper said. He had meandered further through the stones until he reached the far side of the cemetery. "Come and look at this."

They came over, and he pointed down the hill to a copse of small young pines about forty yards away, none more than about eight or ten feet tall. "Something red down there. Is that a car back in the trees?"

They had to circle round as they pushed their way through the weeds and down the slope. "It's Pacifica's," Mabel said. "Oh, no!"

The car, a bright red, brand-new Miagi convertible, rested on a level spot. The black fabric top was up, and the car stood locked and empty. Dipper backtracked and followed its path. "There must've been a road or a logging trail through here," he said to Wendy, who walked along beside him. "It's just a grassy lane now, but she didn't wreck or anything—turned off the road and followed the lane to here. You can still see the tire marks."

Wendy started to say something, but a shout from behind stopped her: "Guys! Quick!"

Mabel's voice. Dipper and Wendy ran back. "What is it?" Wendy asked.

She was in the pine thicket in front of the car, beckoning. "I found something. A monument or something."

She stood about twenty feet away from the car. The pines and other growth had concealed a stony bluff that reared up about ten feet—but the bluff wasn't completely natural. It looked like granite—there was a lot of that in the valley—but it had been carved by human hands. A bas-relief arch had been cut into the sheer face, framing two massive metal doors, spackled with red rust. The top of the arch bore one word, in old-fashioned Gothic letters: RAVENTREE.

"It's not a monument, it's a tomb, a mausoleum," Dipper said. "The miners must have cut it right into the rock."

"Do you think—maybe this is where Dirk lives?" Mabel asked.

"Mabes," Wendy said slowly, "I don't think 'lives' is the right word."


	3. Chapter 3

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **3: The Secret of the Tomb**

The rusted steel doors had welded-on hasps for a lock or chain, but the portals were not fastened. The problem was getting a grip on them—the hasps were small, only a couple of inches, and the doors were heavy, resistant to their tugging. They scrabbled at the hasps and the doors without getting enough of a purchase to open them.

"Why don't we just knock?" Mabel asked.

"Oh, I'm sure that would work," Dipper said.

Missing the sarcasm completely, Mabel took off one shoe and pounded with the heel, beating thunderous echoing booms from the metal door. "Hey! Hello in there! Anybody home? This is Mabel Pines! C'mon, people, look alive!"

"Get back!" Wendy said, grabbing Mabel and pulling her away as the door she had been beating on ponderously groaned open on rusting hinges, the metal-on-metal shriek sounding like the tormented cry of a torture victim. Mabel dropped her shoe, and the door crushed it into the ground, shuddered, and then continued, swinging right over it.

"My shoe!" Mabel yelped, picking it up. It was a wreck. "Oh, somebody's gonna pay for this!"

Dipper was peering inside, into a dark gloom. "Who opened the door?" He fished out his pocket flashlight. "Whoa!"

The doors had opened into a stone-walled chamber about eight feet on a side and seven tall. Another door—wooden, it looked like in the circle of light from the flashlight—was set into the rear wall. It bore an inscription, but dust blurred it. They all stepped in, gingerly—Mabel carrying her one good shoe and in her sock feet—and Dipper used his arm to swipe away the dust on the inner door. It smelled stale and oddly spicy, a little like cinnamon. Dipper read the inscription: "Huh. 'Raventree. Enter freely and of your own will. Ring the bell if you are a delivery person.'"

"There's the bell!" Mabel said, pushing a button that Dipper had overlooked. "Doesn't seem to do anything."

"What would they deliver?" Wendy asked.

Mabel pushed the button again. "Oh, you know, pizzas, Chinese, like that."

"Vampires eat pizzas?" Dipper asked.

"Blood sausage pizzas, smarty!" Mabel said. She tried the doorknob, and the inner door swung open smoothly without any of the rusty grinding of the outer door. She led the way in. "Hello?"

They walked through fearfully—but then the dark chamber they entered suddenly lighted up. "Check it out!" Wendy said, looking around.

It was like a living room. Well, these are vampires, maybe "living" isn't the best term, let's say a parlor: One wall with arched bookcases crammed with books and—DVDs? An overstuffed sofa, some end tables, a couple of armchairs, a big-screen TV, three separate game consoles and controllers scattered on the floor in front of it, a coffee table with a scatter of dirty dishes and glasses, somebody's socks tossed onto a dish with the crusted remnants of some kind of food—

"Dudes live here," Wendy said flatly. "I can tell."

"But where is everybody?" Mabel asked. "Hello! Hello-o?"

A voice came out of thin air: "What? Wait, Mabel? Is that you? Mabel? How'd you find our lair?"

"Dirk?" Mabel yelled. "Where are you, man? You've got some explaining to do! What happened to Pacifica?"

"Uh—it's kind of complicated. Hang on, we're down in the rumpus room. I'm on the way. It'll take me a minute."

"Well, hurry up!" In a lower voice, she told Dipper and Wendy, "Dirk is hot, but man, he's a guy, you know?"

"Boys, right?" Wendy said, picking up a dirty sock between her finger and thumb and making a wrinkled-nose face.

"I'm right here," Dipper said.

Mabel punched his shoulder. "You don't really count as a guy!"

Wendy dropped the sock and put her arm around Dipper's waist. "In the important way, he does!"

Mabel did an air-punch. "Hah! I knew there was some kinda canoodling going on!"

"Canoodling?" Dipper asked. "Where the heck do you pick up these words?"

"And we don't canoodle," Wendy said. "Not all that much."

Dipper agreed. "No, we've never canoodled—wait, what is that, anyhow?"

"Look it up," Wendy and Mabel said in unison. Mabel laughed. "Jinx! You owe me a soda!"

"It's huggin', kissin', and squeezin', dude," Wendy said comfortably. "Getting' close to the deed with each other, you know, but not the whole nine yards."

"OK, I'll admit to _some_ canoodling," Dipper said. "But not, you know, uh, Wendy and I never—we've not—we haven't—Mabel, you're my sister! I can't talk about this stuff with you!"

With a wicked grin and in a suggestive tone, Mabel said, "Oh, I think I get it. You two never rode to the last stop on the subway, hmm? You touched some bases, but no home run yet, hmm? You never gave Wendy a green gown? Never made the beast with two backs, is that what you're telling me? Never went trout sniggling in a narrow river? Never—"

"Jeeze!" Dipper said. "Mom would have a stroke if she heard you talking like that! Shut up already! This is crazy talk. Why—uh-oh."

A door—actually the middle one of the set of bookshelves—swiveled open, and a tall, pale, dark guy came out, looking apprehensive. He was wearing black jeans and a black pullover collared shirt. "Uh—hi, Mabel," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—this is kinda awkward—uh, sorry, who are these?"

"Dirk!" Mabel said, going over to him and giving him a friendly smooch on the cheek. "Mm-wah! This is my dorky brother Dipper, and this is the awesome Wendy Corduroy!" In a fake whisper, she added, "They're b-o-y and g-i-r-l friend."

Though his expression was strained, Dirk smiled, showing extraordinarily sharp canines. "Oh, well. Uh. Welcome to, uh, welcome here. I guess. Sorry, if I'd known you were coming, I would've cleaned up. Uh. So how did you, uh."

"We found Pacifica's car," Dipper said.

Dirk's eyes widened. "Oh, the car! Right, I should've thought of that. We probably should have moved it, but, well, we've been so preoccupied." Dirk sat on the sofa, running his hands through his long dark hair. "This is such a mess! I guess, uh, people are, you know—looking for Pacifica?"

"Worried sick about her, man!" Wendy said. "Her family's important and rich and junk. Where is she, and what have you done with her?"

"Uh, she's, she's, you know, OK and all. But. It's. Uh, only. Look, we're trying to fix her up, all right? It's not our fault! It's because of us, well, me, mainly, but we didn't mean to do it. And we've sent for help, but it takes time for them to get here. We're expecting them soon. You know."

Mabel said, "Dirk, that's not making too much sense."

"I know, I know," he mumbled. "Sorry. I'm just rattled. Do, uh, Wendy and—Dorker?"

"Dipper," Dipper said irritably.

"Oh, yes, right, Dipper, do they know, about, you know, about—me?"

"What, that you're a vampire?" Mabel asked. "No. It's a big secret."

Dirk stared at her in horror.

Mabel cracked up. "Bwah-hah, look at your face! Kidding, kidding, of _course_ they know. I told Dipper about meeting you three years ago! I mean, we met, and I told him way back then, right after both of us, me and Dipper, kissed a merman—"

"Technically not a kiss!" Dipper insisted.

Mabel made a pfffbbtt! Sound. "Yeah, yeah, right. Hey Dirk, where's Viktor?" To Wendy and Dipper, she explained, "Viktor's Dirk's best bud and roommate. Tomb-mate! See what I did there?"

"Viktor's taking care of Pacifica," Dirk said. "He's also my cousin. We're waiting for our Uncle Vlad—"

"What do you mean, 'taking care?'" Dipper asked, his voice angry.

Dirk blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. "Uh, she's, it's not what you—she's under the weather. You might say. See—oh, you ought to know, so, OK, see, Viktor's my first cousin, we, you know, I mean, we're not—they say vampires are kinky, but really—him and I, no."

 _Sheesh_ , Dipper thought. _This guy is more awkward that I was when I was twelve!_

Mabel produced her compact. "Hey, guys, wanna see something cool?" She held the compact mirror beside Dirk's face. "No reflection!"

"How do you shave?" Wendy asked.

"Electric razor," Dirk replied, blinking even more, as if surprised by the sidetrack.

"Let's not get derailed!" Dipper snapped. "Look, Mabel says you don't bite people—"

"We don't!" Dirk said quickly. "Not for over a hundred years, none of my family! The Raventrees swore they wouldn't exist like predators any longer! My father owns a blood farm—sorry, but you know, that's what we drink—outside of the Valley, and we get deliveries three times a week—but it's animal stock, you know, and we, we don't even slaughter the animals, they're fine, they're fine—"

"What I'm getting at," Dipper said, "is you said something's wrong with Pacifica! You bit her, didn't you?"

"What? No, I wouldn't! We wouldn't! Not that I don't find her attractive, because she's pretty and—but no, not even when she asked if Viktor and I would please do it—no, nobody's bitten her. But it's—she's—OK, there's this thing called glamour, you know?"

"It's a fashion magazine," Mabel said.

"Yes, it's a fash—no, it isn't!" Dirk said. "Well, it may be, but it's also a magical projection. Uh. I don't understand it. It's something you just have, or maybe do, without thinking about it. Anyway, it's, you see, vampires—"

Dipper took pity on the guy. "Glamour in that sense is a magical field that makes people like and admire you. They become suggestible in your presence and obey you. That about it?"

"Yeah, that's pretty close," Dirk said. "Mature vampires can turn it on and off at will. Viktor and I never learned how to do that—we're both sixteen—well, I'm a hundred and twenty-nine, technically, and Viktor's two hundred and five—but, you know, sixteen physically because you don't age. Or _you_ do, but we—"

"What is wrong with Pacifica?" Dipper all but yelled.

Dirk squirmed. "Well—she and I met at the music festival. You were there, Mabel. Well, yes, you know that, because you introduced us, I really like Pacifica, by the way, she's—"

"Come _on_ , man!" Dipper said.

"Chill, Dip," Wendy told him. "He's trying to tell you."

"Yeah," Mabel said. "Don't let him scare you, Dirk."

 _Am I going out of my mind?_ Dipper wondered. The girls were defending this babbling—jerk? Then he thought again. "The glamour," he said. "It's working on Mabel and Wendy, right?"

"It may be, I don't know," Dirk said. "I don't know when it's on or when it's off. I can't sense it or anything. It kinda happens when a vampire gets, you know, sort of interested in a human in a romantic way. But, but, I didn't touch Pacifica, and neither did Viktor. And the glamour, I can't do anything about it if it's happening! But I'm not attracted here, it's not Mabel or Wendy—"

"Oh, thanks a lot, Dirk!" Mabel said.

"I don't think it's workin' on me, Dip," Wendy said. "But give the guy a chance."

Dipper rubbed his eyes. "Fine. What. Happened?"

Dirk took a deep breath. Interesting that vampires breathed, Dipper thought, but maybe they just did that for talking. "OK, so we had a good time, and after the concert ended, Pacifica had her car, and she offered to drop me off, so I rode with her. I'd told her I was a vampire—well, we don't particularly keep it secret, not here in Gravity Falls, but still we don't _advertise_ it, but I liked her—OK, sorry. She drove as far as she could, and she parked and walked me to the door, and she said she'd like to see where I stayed, so I let her in, and we watched the end of the late movie on TV, and then somehow, she just—OK, I guess you'd better see for yourselves. Don't be scared. Come with me."

He led them down a long downward-sloping hall hewn from the stone of the mountains. Lights sprang on as they passed along it. "Magic?" Wendy asked.

Dirk sounded surprised. "Huh? Oh, the, uh—no, motion sensors."

Through another door at the end of the hall, and they found themselves in a small apartment—a sitting room, a kitchen with no stove but an enormous fridge and a sink stacked high with dishes, two bedrooms opening off the sitting room, except instead of beds they had coffins, and at the end of a short hall really more of a niche, a spiral stair leading down into the earth. "The rumpus room's down here," Dirk said. "It was the easiest place to make sure she wouldn't esc—uh, leave before Uncle Vlad had a chance to—never mind. Watch your step."

They descended, went through an archway into a dim chamber, and another guy asked, "Who was it—oh! Visitors?"

Dirk coughed. "Viktor, this is Mabel, we met her some time back, you'll remember her, and her friend Wendy, and Mabel's brother Dipster."

"Dipper," Dipper said.

"Yes, sorry. This is my cousin Viktor. My roommate."

"Tomb mate," Mabel said. "See what I—"

"Mabel!" Pacifica's voice, soft, sultry, and seductive. The name purred out like "Mayyyy . . . bel." Dipper saw her then—Pacifica was dressed in a filmy white gown that showed, well, quite a lot of her, really. It was thin and very clingy, and she didn't seem to be wearing anything underneath. She came slinking from a dark corner of the room, swaying her hips as she walked, licking her lips. "Wennnndy. . .. how delightful. Oh, and Dipper. I _have_ to give you a kiss, Dipper darling."

"Look out," Viktor warned. "She bites."


	4. Chapter 4

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **4: The Sexiest Vampire**

Dirk stepped in to cut Pacifica off. "You can't drink your friends' blood," he said, holding onto her arms.

She smiled in a spooky, dreamy way and swayed, leaning into him. "But I want to! I'm a vampire!"

From behind Pacifica, Viktor shook his head at Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy and mouthed, "She's not."

"I know you _think_ you need blood," Dirk said, "but you really don't, you know. Here, sit down in this comfy chair. That's right. Now deep breaths—deep, regular breaths—"

Pacifica looked past him and smiled at Dipper. He'd never seen her look so, well, _sexy_. There. There it was. Pacifica was a beautiful girl, and at the moment she was using every bit of her beauty to be alluring. "We're friends, aren't we, Dipper?" she purred. "Remember how we banished the ghost together? Hmm? I never gave you a reward for that." She tugged the translucent robe down, exposing an impressive cleavage. "Come to me, Dipper."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Wendy said. "Cover up, Paz! You're gonna regret this later."

"What's that you're almost wearing?" Mabel asked.

"Do you like it?" Pacifica asked, wriggling her shoulders. And other things.

"It's a shroud," Viktor said. "We use them like—what do you put on after you get out of the shower?"

"Sev'ral Timez," Mabel said. "Or in Dip's case, Babba."

"Bathrobe, he means, Mabes," Wendy said.

Viktor agreed: "Yes, bathrobe, a shroud's what we use for just lounging around. That one's pretty sheer. It was, it belonged to Dirk's mom, it was sort of what you call lingerie."

Pacifica started to stand up to model the garment. Her body showed pink and blurred through the translucent material. "That's all right," Dirk said. "You don't have to get up." He hissed at Viktor: "Sst! Don't talk about my mom!"

"Bite me," Pacifica purred. It was a languorous invitation, not an insult.

"No, no, we don't do that any more," Dirk said. "What's keeping Uncle Vlad?"

"He doesn't fly fast," Viktor said. "He's old."

"But we called him yesterday!"

Dipper asked, "What's Uncle Vlad going to do?"

"Watch her, Viktor," Dirk said. He motioned with his head, and he and Dipper stepped aside. "OK, Vlad's kind of the, what's the word, the old guy who's the leader of the whole family—"

"Grunkle!" Mabel chirped. She had followed them.

"Patriarch," Dipper corrected.

"Dippit is right—"

"Dipper," Dipper corrected again. "I don't get _your_ name wrong, do I?"

"Sorry, sorry, I have a lot on my mind. Uh. What, what was I saying?"

"Your Grunkle Vlad is coming because—"

"Right, right, because he's the—what is a grunket?"

"Grunkle! Great plus uncle equals great uncle!"

"Except we spell it with a K for some reason," Dipper said.

Mabel was getting enthusiastic. "We have two! One's Grunkle Stan, and the other's also Grunkle Stan, except we call him Ford, because Stan is Stanley and the other Stan is Stanford, but for the longest time we thought Stanley was Stanford and then we thought Stanford was dead because he faked his death, but he wasn't. See?"

"Just nod," Dipper advised Dirk. "Your uncle Vlad, the family patriarch, is important because-?"

Dirk looked a bit dizzy, but he seemed glad to have been put back on the track. "Because he can break glamours. This that Pacifica's going through never happens. I mean, well, sure, you know, you go to the mall, hang out, you see a girl who you want to talk to, you turn it on, you get confident, she sort of gets interested in you, so you hang out and have some laughs, you know how to do that."

Dipper's expression looked strained, and he darted a glance at Wendy, who was bent over Pacifica. Between his teeth, he said, "No."

"Well, I don't know, maybe it just comes with being a vampire, because, well, you know, you want to meet girls and all, it gets so lonely, because you never get any older, so you can't go steady or anything, and there are so few vampire girls, you never meet them, and with humans, you took the oath of abstinence—"

"No fooling around, huh?" Mabel asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Uh, no drinking blood. Human blood. See, it's, I ought to remember this, they taught this to me like a hundred years ago, it's like being an apex predator, right? Or something."

Dipper sighed. "A predator needs lots of prey to sustain it. Like prey may make up ninety per cent of the population, because the predator can't over-hunt the prey, or else they go extinct and it starves to death."

"Right, Dibbler. Now, if—"

"Dipper."

"Sorry. I will try to get that right. I promise. Dipper. Dipper. Dipper."

"Dipdip," Mabel suggested.

"You're a big help," Dipper complained.

"Any time, Broseph."

"Wait, wait," pled Dirk. "I thought his name was Dipper. It's Broseph?"

"Dipper!" Dipper said. "So, the vampires decided that if they kept biting normal humans-?"

"Oh. Uh. In time everybody would be vampires and there'd be no food supply. Uh. Because there's no nourishment in vampire blood, see? And also, there was the problem that people hated us and wanted to exterminate us."

"You had a lot at stake," Mabel said. "Wah! Bomp! Come on, guys, laugh it up. These are the jokes."

"I see why you prefer blondes," Dipper said.

Dirk was looking decidedly frazzled. " _Anyway_ , there are only about a thousand of us in the whole country," Dirk said. "For more than a century, all vampires have taken the pledge. Now we live alongside of, uh, well, people, but lots of them are dead—I mean, this mausoleum is technically part of the graveyard, it was begun for our grandparents, but they're in an assisted-biting facility because they were old already when they became vampires, and my mom and dad didn't like it because it was out of the way and lonely, so they got a condo in Seattle, and so this place was standing empty, and Viktor and I, you know, wanted to have a place of our own, and so even Vlad said it would be OK, somebody should look after it anyhow, not good it just sitting empty, you know, it might attract ghouls or—anyway, we've stayed here for about fifteen years now. We go into town now and then, but we can't go too often, because people would see us and wonder who we are and why we're not in school—"

"I think we get the picture," Dipper said. "But why did you guys even tell Mabel you were vampires to begin with?"

Dirk looked as if he wished he had circulating blood, so he could blush. "Uh, because she seemed interested and sympathetic? We never met anybody like her."

"That's a fact," Mabel said. "Unique Mabel! You know what's fun? Say 'Unique New York' twenty times real fast!"

Dirk ignored her. "One thing just led to another, and when we let it slip that we were vampires, Mabel didn't panic or attack us, she just said—"

"That's so awesome!" Mabel said, smiling. "Yeah, I used to be a tiny bit random. You owe me a shoe."

"She was random a long time ago," Dipper muttered.

"Well—are we in trouble?" Dirk paused and then carefully said, "Dipper?"

Dipper shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you, man. Pacifica's parents are rich and real influential. They might get a mob together to drive you and Viktor out. Or to drive a stake through you. If they find out."

"But we won't let them!" Mabel proclaimed. She put an arm around Dipper and hauled him close, her cheek pressed against his. "My brobro is a genius at thinking up plans! And I'm like a ninja of drama! We'll think up some story and make 'em believe it! Only we can't take Pacifica back if she looks like she's wrapped in waxed paper and she's acting all—boop-boop!"

"We're hoping that—" A buzzer interrupted Dirk, and he went to a wall panel and pressed a button. "Yes, who is it?"

A raspy, irritable old-man's voice said, "Who is it? Who is it? Who did you send for, the exterminator, maybe? Who do you _think_ it is, you little leech? It's me, Vladimir! It's your great-uncle! Who you don't mind asking to fly all the way in from Minneapolis in the worst weather I've seen in maybe two hundred years! Sunshine all the way! There was a time—"

"The door's not locked, Uncle. Come on in. We're in the inner crypt."

"Come on in, come on in. Once upon a time, people would be polite, they'd, I don't know, meet you at the door, offer you a sip of O-positive, say hello, hope you had a nice trip, you know, some little niceties. The whole trouble with you young people is, how do you open this crazy door?"

"Just say the magic word," Dirk said.

"Magic word? At my age I should remember magic words? I can't recall the PIN for my checking account, so I should remember magic words I haven't used in, what, three hundred years? Oh, please. Aieee!"

"What's wrong?"

"This stupid door flew open and hit me on the nose!"

"You said the magic word, uncle!"

"Me? Please!"

A boom echoed through the mausoleum. "What _is_ it with this door? It closed again! I might have been smooshed!"

"Uncle, just say 'please,' and step back."

"Please. OK, OK, I'm going to quick like a rabbit dash through—I'm in! Where'd you say you were?"

"Downstairs!"

"What have you _done_ to this place? You've ruined this place! Where are the cobwebs, the dust, the bones, the armadillos? You got any spiders or rats? What is this with the TV and the Game Guy and the books—where's the door? Where'd you hide the door?"

Dirk made a face. "I'll go bring him down. He hasn't been here in a long time." He climbed the spiral stair and vanished in the gloom above.

Pacifica was begging, "I'm so thirsty, Wendy! Just let me bite you once and drink. You'll like being a vampire. We can share Dipper!" She licked her lips. "And Mabel for dessert!"

"That's disgusting, Paz," Wendy said. "Look, uh, Viktor? Viktor, can't you get something to throw over her?"

"Holy water?" Viktor asked. "It wouldn't have any effect. She's not really—"

"A coat!" Wendy said. "She's not dressed for company!"

"Or at all, hardly," Mabel said.

"Don't let her stand up," Viktor said. He opened a closet door, rummaged through it, and brought back a black silk cape lined in red. "Here you go."

"Is that your evening wear?" Mabel asked, taking it from him.

"Uh, no, Halloween costume. Sometimes we go to dances."

Wendy helped drape the cape around Pacifica. They heard grumbling and Dirk and an old man came slowly down the spiral stairs, the old guy complaining: "You go round and round this thing, it's a wonder at the bottom you don't screw yourself into the ground! Wait a minute, are these puny mortals I'm seeing?"

"They're friends of the girl," Dirk said. "I've been trying to tell you—"

"All right, all right, I'll never understand the younger generation. Hello, puny mortals!" He waved, wiggling his fingers. "How are you doing there? My name is Vladimir, but you can call me Vlad. Just one of the gang, ah-hah! And who are they, what are their names? A good nephew would introduce!"

"That's Pacifica in the cape, the red-haired girl is Wendy, this is Mabel, and this is Mabel's brother—Broseph."

"Dipper," Dipper said. "We're Pacifica's friends."

"So, you venture into a vampire's lair to save your friend?" Vlad nodded, smiling. "That's good, I like that, these are good people. Ho-kay, let's see what we got here."

"Vlad?" Dipper asked, a little nervously. "You—you're not Dracula, are you?"

"Dracula!" Vlad exclaimed, his bushy eyebrows rising. "He wants to know if I'm Dracula! Well, let me tell you something, sonny boy, Dracula was a poser! He was a nebbish! I spit on Dracula! P-tooey! Wait a minute, let me pick up my teeth. 'Scuse, please." He turned and fitted the false choppers back in his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Dipper began, "but I read that Dracula's real name was Vlad—"

"Yeah, yeah," the old man said, making sure his dentures were seated. "Vlad the Impaler, only that wasn't his real name, either! Nossir! And anyway, he was completely fictional! Not a real vampire! Totally imaginary! And besides that, he's been real-dead for, what, a hundred forty years? I lose track. He owed me money, too. Good riddance, I say. As a vampire, he was a lousy PR guy! Nossir, I am not Dracula. My family is even more noble than his. Well, close enough. What was I saying?"

"This is Pacifica," Dirk said. "She got accidentally glamourized."

"Accidental, he says," mumbled Vlad. "These young guys, they want to impress the girls, they get all worked up, first thing you know the girl goes nuts, mesmerized, under a spell—sweetie, look me in the eyes. These ones here, on either side of my nose. You got real pretty blue eyes, sweetie."

"Thank you," Pacifica said. "Will you bite me?"

"Excuse? Will I bite you? I'm overdue for new dentures, last thing I need is to break these! Yeah, she's got it bad. All right, I'm gonna need a few things. Bring me, let's see, wing of bat and owlet's pellet—"

"Where are we supposed to get those?" Viktor asked.

"What, you don't have a convenience store? OK, we do this the hard way. Go boil some water, quick."

"To purify her?"

"No, for tea! It was a long trip in the burning sunshine, I'm thirsty! I'll do this once I've had a little drink, and a nosh wouldn't be so bad, either, you got like some blood?"

"Uh, sheep's blood and a little cow, I think," Vlad said. "You didn't finish the Bovine Divine, did you, Viktor?"

"I haven't had the stomach to eat since you got us in this mess. There's about a pint."

"Pint, pint," grumbled Vlad. "Who needs a pint? An ounce! You young guys, you overdo it, first thing you know, you turn into a bat, you try to fly, you splat on the ground, you're too heavy for those little bat wings! You won't have that kind of metabolism all your unlives, you know! Take care of yourself and yourself will take care of you! Hot tea for me, no sugar, and put in maybe an ounce of the cow, and it wouldn't hurt you should splash in about as much brandy, you got any."

"I think Dad left some," Dirk said.

"I know where everything is, I'll get it," Viktor said. "She gets restless if Dirk's out of her sight for very long."

"Yeah, well, we'll fix that. Green tea, please! Earl Grey would do, even. What's she wearing here? She wore a cape?"

Pacifica stood and spread the cape, and Vlad quickly turned. "Oh, sweet mother of pearl—Sweetie, sweetie, wrap up again, you'll catch cold! Yeah, that's better. An old man like me, he could get heart failure! Where's your clothes?"

"We've got them in the closet," Viktor said. "She found the shroud and took off everything and put that on—"

The old man held up a long finger. In an angry tone, he said, "You didn't take advantage, did you? You and that little nephew of mine? I know you young punks! When she was bare, you—"

Viktor was holding up both palms. "No, no, I swear! We knew we'd be in such big trouble! She kept the shroud on, and we didn't touch her! Not in a bad way! Anyhow, I'm also your nephew."

"Yeah, yeah. Good for you, you didn't touch her," Vlad said. "Else, I'd have to kick a couple asses. Pardon my French, young ladies."

"That's all right," Wendy said. To Mabel and Dipper, she added, "I like this guy!"

Vlad smiled toothily. False-toothily. "I like you, too, sweetie! Such fire, such red hair! Mmrowr! If I was three hundred years younger—I'd still be alive, and you wouldn't even be born yet!"

"Sir," Dipper said.

"Him I like too," Vlad announced. "Sir. You hear what he says, Vik? Nice, polite! You should learn a lesson! Yes, sonny?"

"Will you be able to cure Pacifica?"

"Depends," Vlad said.

"On what?" Mabel asked.

Raising his voice, Vlad said, "On whether I get my tea! I'm old, how long do I have to wait?"

Mabel grinned at Dipper. "I think Paz is in good hands," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **5: Pulling Pacifica Through**

The first thing was for Pacifica to get a little sleep. As Dirk explained to them, she hadn't slept at all since the concert—so now she was more than 24 hours without shuteye, something a vampire could handle but made life hard for a normal person.

However, the fix was easy enough. Vlad sat in a straight chair facing her, she sat in the armchair and looked in his eyes, he murmured a few words, her eyelids drooped—and she was out like a light.

Unfortunately, old Vlad clapped his hands and yelled, "Yes! Hah! Still got it!" and that woke her up and he had to start all over again.

But within a few minutes, she was dozing, her chin down on her chest, and he tucked the cape around her as if tucking in a baby. "Whispers," he said, holding a finger to his lips and leading the others over to the foot of the spiral stairs. "OK, so here's what is: Getting someone out of a fit of glamour is part magic, part medicine, mostly psychology. In other words, I gotta talk her down, OK? Which means there is going to be some embarrassing stuff from her. Which means you people shouldn't listen."

"Aw," Mabel said.

"Believe me, it's better for her you don't. But, you know, these days, harassment suits and all, I need a witness. So let me see." Then Vlad pointed to Dipper. "Nothing personal, but it's girly-girly things, and I'm all right with it, 'cause I'm older than dirt—no kidding, I was there the day dirt was invented, which was a relief, let me tell you, because we'd been making soap for like a hundred years already, and now we finally had something to do with it—where was I? OK, so I'm old, heard it all, out of the game, I'm all right with it, I don't know the girl, I'm a professional. But you young guys shouldn't hang around for it. You, girl with one shoe, are you a friend of the blondie?"

"I'm her _best_ friend," Mabel said. "Also, your nephew should buy me a pair of shoes. The door ruined one of mine."

"Hoh, that door! A curse on the man who designed that furshlugginer door! Wait a minute, I take it back, I think it was _me_. Tell you what, Mabel, is it? After this is over, you go buy yourself a pair of shoes you like, something nice, fashionable, not slutty, you know what I mean? And photocopy the bill and send it to me—wait a minute, somewhere here I got a card—yeah, here you go, at this address, and I'll reimburse. Are we good?"

"We're good!" Mabel said, taking the card.

"OK, the shoe business settled, I think maybe you and your brother Dipper—that right?"

"Yes!" Dipper said with a fist pump.

Vlad looked mildly surprised. "You get excited by your name, I'm glad for you, it's the little things that make life worth living. Anyway, you take your sister, go upstairs, my nephews will entertain you. They probably got something to eat and drink, no blood, just regular food and maybe a soda. You know we _can_ eat and drink regular, but we just do it for taste, we don't get any nourishment from it. Unless it's a nice juicy steak, very rare, love those." He smacked his lips. "But I can't eat them now, the doctor's worried about my cholesterol, can you believe? Nearly three hundred years dead, my lipids still run high, it drives me crazy. Anyway, that's nearly everybody. Wait, Miss Wendy, I don't mean you, you're a mature young woman, you can stay."

"Hey, you dorks hear that? I'm mature!" Wendy crowed. "Check it out!"

"Now, this is like I'm appointing you temporary nurse, understand? I'm gonna trust you won't spill any beans to your friends, something embarrassing comes out from her mouth, which believe me, it will. How old's she, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Just turned sixteen," Mabel said. "Last month."

"Mazel tov. OK, good, you get along now, leave Miss Pacifica to me and Miss Wendy, we'll have her fixed up soon. Bye-bye! Watch your step on those crazy corkscrew stairs, I don't know what they were thinking, putting in a deathtrap like that! Bye now, enjoy yourself, you should be well!"

Wendy and Vlad watched them leave. Then Vlad sighed and all but collapsed back into his chair. "Ho, boy, I gotta tell you, Miss Wendy, this girl has a bad case. This fact alone tells me something in her life is making her not so happy, OK? So, you sit over there, just behind her. She won't get violent or anything, but you don't talk, just listen, until I give you the wink. We'll snap her out of this, but after, she may need the help of a friend. I'm trusting you with this. I hope you _are_ a friend of hers?"

"Uh—I like her all right," Wendy said, "but she and I aren't really close friends. I'm like two years older than she is."

Vlad shrugged. "Meh, two years, three years, nothing. Believe me. You just be there for her, act friendly, let her know you'll any time give her a listening ear, she wants to talk. If this girl had close connections, people she cared about who cared about her, she never would've been glamourized. I mean, you obviously love somebody. The Mabel, her I'm not so sure about, it may be she's too _meshuggah_ to be affected. No insult to her! Don't get me wrong, I _like_ a nice girl with a crazy sense of humor, we should have more of those, this would be a happier world! But still, a girl like Mabel, the glamour likely wouldn't work on her. Know what protects you? I'll tell you. I'll bet you got a sweetie, haven't you?"

"Dipper," Wendy said, smiling.

Vlad's bushy gray eyebrows climbed right up to his widow's peak. "The Dipper? For real? He's also younger than you, too, right, like the girl here?"

"I'm eighteen, he'll be sixteen in a few days."

"Eh, like I say, that's nothing! Well, good luck to you both, and from me to him, you tell him he's a lucky guy! All right, let's get this show on the road. You sit right there—yeah, that's good, that's good—and I'll start this thing. Get comfortable. Ready? Here we go."

Wendy settled back, and Vlad pulled his chair closer to Pacifica, leaned forward, and crooned, "Yoo hoo, Miss Pacifica? You can open your eyes now but listen only to the sound of my voice. Look at me, darling. Into my hypnotic gaze, right? You're smiling, yeah, it's a joke, it's a joke. On you, smiles look so nice. Come on, look at me. Yeah, there are those pretty blue eyes. So, Miss Pacifica, you like Dirk a lot, huh?"

In a dreamy voice, Pacifica said, "He's the sweetest guy. I wish he could be my boyfriend."

Gently, quietly Vlad said, "Well, you know, that's a difficult kind of thing, him being a vampire and you not. Is that why you were thinking you'd like to be a vampire?"

"Yeah," Pacifica said with a sigh. "Just to get away from my crappy life. It's been such a stinky year. And now Dipper's going away, and my best friend Mabel, too. And I don't have friends at school, and Adam—well, he's been my boyfriend for a while, but there's no spark. I shouldn't tie him up. That's selfish. I ought to let him go and find someone he can love."

"Very wise of you," Vlad said. "Though I gotta say, two people who cannot stand each other can have a surprisingly good marriage, provided they both enjoy fighting a lot."

"I don't," Pacifica said sadly.

"Mm. So tell me about your troubles at home."

Pacifica didn't weep, but her voice grew terribly sad as she spoke about how she had been brought up—about Preston's obsession with money, power, money, position, and more money, about how stern her upbringing had been. She shuddered when she remembered and talked about the bell.

Vlad blinked. His voice shook a little when he asked, "Your papa, he rang a _bell_? And it made you have to obey him?"

She nodded. "The hardest thing I ever did in my life was to ignore that bell when he was ordering me not to do—something that was the right thing to do. I felt like I was tearing apart."

"Ay, ay, ay. Sweetie, I'm so sorry. You close your eyes and sleep for a couple minutes, darling. Until you hear me say, 'Open your eyes again,' you'll doze and you won't remember anything you hear, OK? Sleep now."

As Pacifica slumped again, Vlad got up and paced like an angry tiger measuring out its cage. When he turned toward Wendy, his face was furious. "Such a terrible person!" he said. "This is a beautiful child! This could be such a sweet girl! No wonder she fell so hard for the glamour! Her own papa made her so suggestible that any schmoe could trick her and break her heart. This father, he should be taught a good lesson!"

"Well," Wendy said, "there was this demon who switched the guy's nose with his ear and his mouth with his eyes."

"Good! He deserved even worse!" Vlad jerked his thumb toward himself. "Me, I'd have jammed his head so far up his tuchus he'd have to yawn to see the daylight! Already I'm hating this guy!"

"To be fair, I gotta say Preston's tried to be better the last couple years," Wendy said. "Matter of fact, Mabel helped get him turned around."

"Really? I had the feeling that crazy little brunette was a good person. And she's Miss Pacifica's best friend?"

"Yeah, when Mabel's here, Pacifica's always got someone to lean on."

"Good, she's got some support, then," Vlad said. "This part is bad, though. They're leaving soon, Miss Pacifica says? Forever?"

"No, just until next summer."

"Not so bad, but still not so good. Listen, Miss Wendy, are you OK with being a friend to Pacifica until then? Maybe help her find some other friends? A boyfriend, maybe, one who's a mensch and not a schmuck?"

"I'm not sure I know what those are," Wendy said, "but I'll do my best."

"It's a big responsibility, I know," Vlad said. "But you can help her more than you know. Anything you can think of that would make her feel better?"

Wendy bit her lip. "Well, I shouldn't say this, but—what the heck. You know—your nephew Dirk really, really is taken with her."

Vlad nodded, but his expression wasn't encouraging. "Yeah, well, but with Dirk, you know, a mixed match like that, would never work. She'd outgrow him. Literally. He's sixteen, he'd take it hard and maybe do something crazy, she grows up enough to want a more mature guy. And what she was wanting, no. A vampire existence is not for her. She's the wrong mental type, I can tell, I've seen it before, and it's such a tragedy, believe me. She'd be obedient and on the outside cheerful, but inside, miserable. Totally and wretchedly miserable. All the time."

"Too bad," Wendy said. "But if Dirk could at least date her for the next year or so? Casually, at least, nothing serious? Could he do that and not, like you say, take advantage?"

Vlad paced again. "About that you have to let me think. And I gotta talk with Dirk man to man. Don't tell him I said this, but he's a real good boy underneath all the teen angst stuff. His parents should've had their heads examined when they let him be vampirized before he was old enough. Viktor's parents, too. Viktor was first, they palled around when Dirk got to be the same age as him, and Viktor was all 'Oh, it's so cool, you ought to be a vampire too.' Well, they didn't use 'cool' back then, but you get the gist. Anyway, Dirk's papa and mama, too lenient, that's what his folks were. The boy begged them. Teenagers, they think they want to stay that way forever. You know, being fifteen, sixteen, it's rough enough for just a couple years, you try it for a few centuries, it drives you crazy! The hormones, they never let up!"

"Like a sweaty cage," Wendy suggested.

"Exact! Good way of putting it. So, after a few decades, it makes 'em _geferlech_ , dangerous to themselves and others, weird, nutso, see?"

"I can understand that," Wendy agreed.

Vlad clapped his hands. "OK, so let's finish this job. What I'll do, I'll dissolve the glamour. I can temporary-like take the sting off it, but after, she's gonna likely be depressed for a few days. You keep an eye on her. Don't let her do anything foolish. Have heart-to-hearts with her at least once a day for a week or so, you know. Mabel, her you can decide what to tell. She can help, I think. Let her call every day on the little punchy-button phone, talk to Miss Pacifica. I see why Pacifica would like somebody like Mabel, somebody a little funny and a little crazy, when Pacifica herself walks every day so close to the edge of depression. I think she hides it with, like, acting superior, am I right?"

"Pretty much," Wendy agreed.

"All right, what's gonna happen is I'll break the spell, I'll give her a little boost of happiness that'll last a day, two days tops. From then, it's up to you. If you can, please have a talk with her mama—her people are together?"

"Oh, sure," Wendy said. "And her mom's had problems, too, but really both Mr. and Mrs. Northwest love Pacifica, down deep. Trouble is, I think the whole family has trouble showing affection. Or even saying it."

"Yeah, with the bell thing, I can believe that. A bell! Imagine such a thing! Anyway, I'm saying if you might have a little talk with the mama, it could help. Now, I gotta ask Miss Pacifica to tell us everything that's been bothering her, and you may hear some things you won't like, but you'll have to remember it's her problems, not yours, and you gotta keep anything bad secret. Anything bad gets out, her schoolmates mess with her about it, it might break her. I trust you not to gossip or make fun."

Wendy mimed zipping her lip.

Vlad smiled. "That Dipper, he is a lucky, lucky kid! Settle back in your chair, Miss Wendy. This might be a little bit rough in places, but here we go."

He was right.

The next hour of toxic fears, worries, and bitter old memories that Pacifica spilled was about the roughest Wendy could have imagined.


	6. Chapter 6

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **6: What Do You Tell the Parents?**

Dirk, Dipper, and Mabel were in the parlor, deep in conversation. Viktor had excused himself and was resting in his coffin. Curiously, Dipper had asked Dirk, "Do your coffins have dirt from your homeland in them?"

"Uh—no," Dirk had said, looking as though he were stuck halfway between baffled and insulted. "That's, you know, that's gross. I mean, why would we? Mine has a memory-foam mattress. Viktor's got a watercoffin."

"Ooh!" Mabel said. "I'd like to try—" Dipper glared at her, and she coughed and finished, "—winding up our plan before they finish treating Pacifica."

"OK," Dipper said. "I think we've worked out the details. But we'll have to persuade Pacifica to go along, or nothing will work."

The bookcase door swung open. "What won't work?" Wendy asked, stepping through. Vlad came in behind her, muttering.

"We got a cover story!" Mabel said. "To explain why Pacifica's been missing for a whole day! Wait, what time is it now?"

"Um, ten twenty-three," Dipper said, checking his phone.

"OK, so she was supposed to be home Sunday night, and this is Monday, so it's more like forty hours. That's important!"

"No, it isn't," Dirk said. "It's also wrong."

"OK, forget it," Mabel said cheerfully. "Where's Paz?"

Dipper noticed how pale Wendy looked. Her freckles were standing out. Wendy said, "She's resting right now. She—I can't tell you everything, but she's had a real hard time. I didn't know how hard."

"Thing to do now," Vlad said, "is to get her home, give her lots of support and friendliness and so on and so forth. And somebody's gotta have a long talk with her papa!"

"Who?" Dirk asked.

"I don't know. I should know? When's the last time I was here? Before World War II? Who's in charge? That guy Befumtleburger, whatever his crazy name, I don't remember so good."

"Mr. Befufftlefumpter used to be the mayor," Dipper said. "But he's not any longer."

"That's 'cause he's dead," Mabel explained.

Vlad grunted. "So that's an excuse? Laying down on the job? That's the younger generation for you, lazy! All right, so who's mayor now, can talk some sense into this Preston Northwest?"

"Um," Wendy said, "that would be Tyler Cutebiker, but he's not exactly a guy who could stand up to Preston very strongly."

"He stood up to Bill Cipher," Mabel said. "What a guy! Half panther, half puma! And that's only his shirt!"

"What about your dad?" Dipper asked Wendy.

She made a face. "This . . . would require more quick thinking than brute strength."

"Your dad can think quick," Mabel said.

"Yeah, if you give him like a week's head start. Dipper, what about Ford?"

"Does it involve emotional issues?" Dipper asked.

"Yeah, of course."

"Then that's a big no," Mabel said, and Dipper nodded agreement. "But what about Grunkle Stan?" she asked.

"I think Mabel's right," Dipper said. "Stan can come on strong, he's a lot smarter than people think he is, and he's not shy."

"I know who that is," Dirk told his great-uncle. "He'd be good."

"All right, so I'll hang around a couple days. Tomorrow, I need an introduction to this guy with the crazy name, this Glumpel. Last name Stan?"

"Nuh-uh," Mabel said. "Stanley Pines. He's our great uncle. Grunkle Stan!"

"Oh, I see," Vlad said. He grinned toothily at Dirk. "This I like. From now on, I'm Grunkle Vlad with you, OK? Sounds family. Yeah, I like this!"

"Uh, well, I, yeah, I guess, sure. Uh. Grunkle. Uh, Grunkle Vlad," Dirk said.

"That's settled. What is next on the menu?" Vlad asked.

"We have a story made up to cover Pacifica's absence," Dipper said. "But she'll have to go along with it and not break from it for everything to work."

"This is not a problem," Vlad said. "I can do what they used to call Mesmerizing, nowadays it's hypnosis, implant a memory, make her believe it so much it's like real to her. Only I got to have the details."

Dipper looked at Mabel. "Mabel, you can go with Vlad when he hypnotizes Pacifica. Give him the story—and don't embroider on it! Keep it simple, just the way we worked it out."

"Aw, that's no fun. Can I throw in a unicorn?"

"No, keep it simple," Dipper repeated.

Dirk took Mabel's hand. "Mabel, you're friends with Pacifica. I really like her. For her sake, just give her the story as we planned it, OK?"

Mabel melted. "Well, sure, fine, I guess. If you kiss me."

"On the cheek!" Dipper said.

Dirk gave her a chaste peck, and Mabel clenched her hands and squeed. "A vampire, a merman, a Gnome, a werewolf—I'm checkin' exotic smooches off my list at a record pace! OK, Grunkle Vlad, let's go brainwash Pacifica! Oh, where's her clothes? I'll get her dressed."

Dirk went to a closet and took down a hanger. The outfit Pacifica had worn to the concert was neatly hung and folded on it. He also handed Mabel a small paper bag. "Her underthings," he said. "I washed them."

"You should do more than that, you should pick up this pigsty!" Vlad said. "For our whole family, I'm embarrassed! Paper plates with week-old pizza crusts, empty soda cans—a mess!"

"Where's her purse?" Mabel asked.

"Oh, it's, I saw it, where did she—there it is, on the table with the Gamey Pro console."

Dipper got it and opened it. He took out her pink phone. "Here you go," he said, handing the purse to Mabel.

"Nah, just leave it up here. We'll pick it up when we're done. Lead the way, Grunkle Vlad!"

"How I wish I had a niece or two," Vlad said. "Grunkle Vlad! It makes me feel so warm and undead inside!" The two of them left for the basement room.

Dipper popped the back of the phone. "It looks like she's got half a charge. If we could just discharge the battery so it would seem like her phone had died—"

"Give it to me," Dirk said.

Dipper removed the flat battery and handed it over. Grimacing a little, Dirk held the terminals against his teeth. A blue spark flashed, there was a _zzzztzz_! And he said, "Ouch. There. No charge in it now."

"I didn't know vampires could do that," Wendy said.

"I found out by accident," Dirk said. "Don't, uh, don't ask me how. I, uh, I got into Dad's brandy, and it's not, you know, a pretty story."

"We'll fill you in," Dipper said, and he and Dirk told Wendy the tale they had concocted.

* * *

Pacifica, fully dressed again, came in looking surprisingly happy, though a little tired and haggard. "Thanks for sitting with me at the concert, Dirk!" she said brightly. "Call me, OK?"

"Sure, uh. Yeah. I will. Uh. Tomorrow?"

"Anytime!" Pacifica kissed him. "Guys, thanks so much for coming out and rescuing me. Did you get some gas for my car?"

"We brought some and put it in the tank already," Wendy said. Part of their cover story was that Pacifica had run out of gas. "And Dipper drove it over, so it's not far. You must be tired."

Pacifica yawned. "Yeah, really. My folks are going to kill me."

"Probably not," Mabel said. "They'll be glad you're OK. Let's get started. Paz, tell you what, you're real tired."

Pacifica drooped. That's how posthypnotic suggestions work. "I am. So sleepy."

"All right, you and me will ride with Wendy, and Dipper will drive your car. He's logged enough hours for his license, and he'll be real careful."

"That's fine," Pacifica murmured.

Wendy and Mabel got her outside, leaving her keys with Dipper. Vlad came in and said, "Dipper, she's gonna believe the tale implicit. Everything. You be sure to support her, and I wanna know tomorrow, her papa gives her a hard time. When can I meet your Grunkle Stan?"

"I'll call and get him to come over to the Mystery Shack," Dipper said. "Dirk, you know where that is, don't you?"

"On Gopher Road, sure."

"You bring your uncle over, then. You got my number, right?"

"On my phone," Dirk said, showing him.

"I got yours, so I'll call tomorrow as soon as I set up the meeting. Wish us luck, guys."

"I, we do," Dirk said. "Thank you."

"Dipper Pines," Vlad said sternly, "you got a good thing going with that Wendy girl. So lucky you are! You treat her right, you be a mensch for her, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Dipper said. "I always try to."

With a smile, Vlad, surprisingly, patted his cheek. "You're a good boy and on your way to being a good man. My pleasure to meet you and your beautiful crazy sister, Mr. Pines."

Dipper had an odd feeling. It was the first time he'd been called that seriously by an adult.

And the adult was more than three hundred years old, and a vampire to boot.

It's a crazy world sometimes.

Dipper hurried out to move Pacifica's car, and after he had gone, Vlad said, "Dirk, Dirk, when you gonna get serious?"

"I think I could be serious," Dirk said. "About, you know. I mean, not about. With. With Pacifica. I really think I could."

"It hit you, boom! like that?" Vlad asked.

"I know, it's stupid."

"Stupid? No. Beautiful? Yes. A problem? Oy! So, what you gonna do?"

Dirk looked at the floor. "I—since you're here anyway, and—could—I'd like to—"

"Speak up," Vlad said, not unkindly. "And look a man in the eye."

Dirk raised his head. He was clenching his fists and shivering a little. "I want to have a serious talk with you, uh, Grunkle Vlad. Sir."

Vlad put his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Sir. This I like. This I like very much. OK, so give me a little shot of blood, not much, lean if you got it, and let's talk man to man."

* * *

They'd agreed that Wendy should make the call. She got Durland, who was on night duty, and after some difficulty persuaded him to go wake up Sheriff Blubs. He accused her of trying to prank him. She finally lost patience and said, "OK, I'm calling the Northwests if you won't. But I think we ought to meet 'em at the sheriff's office, so look for us all to show up in half an hour."

"Maybe I better make the call," Blubs said then. "She's all right?"

"She's fine," Wendy said. "She's been scared, and she's worn out and probably starving, but she's not hurt. It was an accident. We'll explain when we get there."

Pacifica was dozing again—another implanted suggestion. Mabel asked, "What'll we do if Deputy Mazer's there?"

"Go with the plan," Wendy said. They reached the highway and turned right toward town. "She's not the sheriff, Blubs is. If we can fool him, we're home free."

"If we can't," Mabel said, "we're just pathetic."

Dipper was behind them, in Pacifica's red Miagi. It was the first time he'd driven a brand-new car, and he felt antsy and anxious. He could imagine what would happen if he scratched or dented it—Mr. Northwest would probably kill him. Or sue him. Or do first one, then the other.

He carefully obeyed the speed limit, lost sight of Wendy, who was about three miles an hour over it for most of the way, and arrived at the sheriff's station in time to see Wendy, Mabel, and Paz get out of the old Dodge Dart. He sighed with relief. He'd made it here safely.

Then he realized that he would have to parallel park.

* * *

He managed it after a few tries. The others waited for him. Pacifica was still looking upbeat. "You'll have to practice that before your license test!" she warned him. "Like, a lot!"

"I will, I will," Dipper muttered. "Let's go in."

The desk sergeant—Durland—told them to go into the conference room and pointed right, so they turned left and found it. Gravity Fallers automatically adjusted for Durland's mixed-brain dominance problem.

"There you are!" Preston Northwest jumped up from his seat, and so did Priscilla. "Young lady, where—"

"Mommy!" Pacifica exclaimed—another implanted suggestion—and she threw herself into her mother's arms. A startled-looking Priscilla stiffened, but then relaxed, hugged her daughter, and stared over her shoulder at Preston with big, pleading eyes.

"She's OK, Mr. Northwest," Dipper said. He still had a little credit with Preston for having helped with the Northwests' ghost problem. "Let us explain what happened. Pacifica's awfully tired."

They sat at the conference table. Blubs was at the head, swigging coffee from a Buckstar's cup and occasionally asking an irrelevant question. Wendy took most of the narrative.

* * *

"See, Mabel remembered she'd seen Pacifica with a guy at the concert, and we asked around, and somebody—who, Mabel?"

"Oh, just a guy I know," Mabel said. They had no backup witnesses lined up, but she assumed that Teek or if not him, Gideon would step up. "He told me that after the concert ended, Pacifica offered to drive this guy home. He also knew he lived up Crooked Creek Road."

"Then Pacifica drove him to his place, dropped him off—that was about, what, Pacifica?"

"One-thirty," Pacifica, who believed it, said.

"And then she started home, but the guy's house was down this long drive, and it intersected with two other drives, and somehow Pacifica made a wrong turn, so she headed away from the highway when she thought she was driving toward it."

"I got mixed up," Pacifica added.

"What she didn't know was she was on the old Kelly's Camp logging road. It's still in fair shape, but it dead-ends."

"I tried to turn around," Pacifica said, "but I got stuck for a while, and then when I finally managed to get the car loose, I'd only gone a little way when it ran out of gas."

"Did you call the auto service?" Preston asked.

Pacifica sighed, opened her purse, and handed over her phone. "The battery had died," she said. "I was scared! It was dark, I know there are bears in the woods, I didn't know where I was, no GPS or anything—so I know that when you're in a car and you get stranded, you're supposed to stay with the car. I waited all day and then into the night, and Daddy, I was so scared." She really was. She started to cry.

"Anyway," Wendy said, "we figured out what might've happened, and on the off chance that she'd made a wrong turn, we drove down the Kelly's Camp road. My dad and brothers and me have camped along in there, I know it pretty well. We found her not long ago, called in the news, and brought her back."

"And her car," Dipper said. "We got some gas, enough to get back to town, and I, uh, I drove it for her. Pacifica's too shaky and tired. And she's hungry."

"Her automobile is all right?" Preston asked.

"Yes, sir," Dipper said. "I put a little more gas in the tank. It's at half-full now."

"And you're all right, baby?" Priscilla asked, smoothing Pacifica's hair.

"Yes, I'm fine, just tired and thirsty and hungry. But I was so scared and lost! I kept praying that you and Daddy could somehow find me!"

"Preston," Priscilla said, with a warning glance at her stiff-backed husband.

"I'm glad you're unhurt, Pacifica," Preston said, though his voice held no warmth. He reached out and touched his daughter's shoulder, the way he might straighten a crooked picture on the wall.

Wendy, impatience shining in her green eyes, said, "Sir, your daughter needs a hug."

"I don't give—oh, very well."

Dipper, watching, thought that a Preston Northwest hug was much like being caught in a constrictor's coil.

However, at least he was sort of smiling.

And that was a start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **7: With Great Responsibility Comes . . . Worry**

The next morning Dipper and Wendy ran, as usual. "I hope she's gonna be OK," Wendy said as they headed off on their nature trail. "I can't talk about all of it, but I'll tell you, some of her family life—way messed up, man."

"I kinda got that feeling," Dipper said.

"And that boyfriend of hers? Adam?"

"I know him." They were running hard enough for Dipper's wind to be a little short. The ideal running gait, Wendy maintained, was hard enough for you to be able to talk, just too hard to allow you to sing. They were about at that point as they passed the bonfire clearing.

"She's gonna break up with him," Wendy said. "It's tough on her, and she feels guilty, but she says she's just held onto him to have somebody halfway normal to hang onto. That make sense?"

"Totally," Dipper said. "Mabel and Teek. Same deal."

"But Teek really likes Mabel for who she is. He's a lot more grounded. But still. He accepts her just as Mabel. Adam can't quite do that."

"What do you think?" Dipper asked.

"I think it's better for both of them. Adam, he's gonna go off to college. Washington State. Get away from Gravity Falls weirdness. Paz, I don't know. Her dad wants her to stay in-state, maybe Croydon."

"Girls' school, right?"

"Yeah. Exclusive. Rich girls only. Paz isn't sure. Man, Dipper, in some ways that bell's still ringin'."

They fell into their long-stride run and didn't talk for a while. The summer was burning out, slowly—the taller weeds stood yellowing in the hot morning sun. In the valley, July was a dry month, August the driest of the year. Most of the heavy thunderstorms had rolled through in June and early July, and now only spotty localized ones were likely—none today, to judge from the brassy bright sky and the hot sun beating down.

They had Moon Trap Pond in view when Wendy stopped and gestured for him to stop, too. Standing on top of the rounded hill that overlooked the pond—the Lonely Man, the enigmatic standing stone, was off to their right—Wendy pointed up at the sky. "Hear them, Dip?"

It didn't sound like birdsong—it was a low trumpet call, staccato and weird. Dipper shaded his eyes and saw a skein of maybe a dozen enormous birds in dark silhouette against the blue morning sky. "What are they?"

"Sandhill cranes," Wendy said. "They get a little further north every year. Don't normally see them, though. Those are heading south. Betcha anything they're aiming for the Malheur Wildlife Preserve. You and me ought to drive down there next summer. It's about a hundred and fifty miles. I think you'd like it."

"Are those the ones that almost went extinct?" Dipper asked.

"No, man. You're thinking of whooping cranes. These guys need help, though. Their habitat's been shrinking. Really striking birds—bright red caps, you see them up close. Want to rest?"

"I'm OK."

"I'm not. I want to sit on the ground and have you next to me hugging me."

"Oh—sure," Dipper said.

They walked as far as the Lonely Man, and Wendy sat leaning against the stone, Dipper close beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Pacifica. She's in fragile shape. I didn't realize. Now—I sort of have a responsibility to help her, I promised old Vlad. And I'm scared I'll bitch it up."

"Not you," Dipper said, holding her hand. "You're the coolest girl in the world."

"Yeah. But I want to help her. Not make her think I'm this great wise older woman and all, not tell her what she should do. That's not me."

"Be yourself," Dipper advised. "Like you are with Mabel."

"Gonna try," Wendy said. "I wish I was more like you. You take care of Mabel even when she doesn't know you're doing it. And you're so, like, stealthy about it. I don't mean that as a bad thing, but I mean you can go without credit or glory or even a simple thank-you. I'll try to be like you."

"Don't try too hard," Dipper said. "You're best when you're Wendy. Just go with what feels right."

Wendy picked a blade of dry grass and twirled it, watching it as if it would give her some hint, some clue, about what lay before her. "I'll try, Dip. But, man—for years I kinda resented her and all the Northwests. I know she's changed a lot, and her dad's even trying to be a halfway decent person, but—I feel like such a hypocrite, getting all friendly with her."

"Be honest with her," Dipper said. "She knows what she used to be and what she is. She knows who you are—she'll remember fighting Bill Cipher side-by-side with you. You two already have a bond." He smiled. "She's real nice around Stan. See, she remembers when she was lost, when monsters had come so close to grabbing her that they ripped her clothes off. And she sewed those potato sacks together herself, and Stan found her and brought her to the Shack—that's when he was rounding up survivors—and he took care of her and never once made fun of her clothes, she says."

"Well, nobody would," Wendy said. "Mabel mentioned them, but she never mocked her or made fun."

"Yeah," Dipper agreed, "But Pacifica was always so picky about her looks. About Stan, she told me once, 'I apologized for wearing such awful rags, and he said, "Sweetie, you make them look like satin and lace."' Aw, Wendy, you should've seen her face light up when she told me that. Stan's like a grandfather to her. She has true feelings and good instincts about people. She'll warm up to you. You'll see."

"I wish I was more like you," Wendy said, tickling his chin with the grass.

That made him grin, but in a serious voice, he said quietly, "No you don't. I'm insecure, I'm automatically suspicious of everybody, I'm so awkward. I never think I'm doing anything well, even when I am. I win a sprint in a track meet, my first reaction is to feel ashamed, like somehow I cheated, even though I didn't. You don't want to be as awkward as I am, believe me."

Wendy squeezed his hand and sent him a thought: _You're not as awkward as old Dirk, though!_

— _Yeah, good point. I didn't think it was possible, but I guess next to him I look pretty smooth!_

 _Too bad he's a vamp. Somebody like him might be good for Pacifica. She couldn't push him around too much, he couldn't bring himself to break her heart if he tried. You can tell he's already goofy in love with her._

— _But he's a vampire, she's a human. It's always something._

 _Yeah. Hey, Dip?_

— _What?_

 _I'm not really gonna apply to colleges until this coming spring at the earliest. Then I won't start until a year from next September. 'Cause we're going together, assuming I can get accepted at the school you pick._

— _If they don't take you, they don't get me, either, Magic Girl. One way or another, we're sticking together._

 _Yeah, thanks. But I've been thinking. This fall, if you can't swing a Thanksgiving visit, I might just be able to drive down to Piedmont a couple of times. OK to use the excuse that I'm college-shopping and I'm in the neighborhood-?_

— _Do it! I want to see you whenever I can. And Dad will love to have you stay at our house, and Mom will agree. Just let me know when you want to come, and I'll fix it._

 _Love you, man._

Aloud, Dipper said, "Why, I'm emotionally fond of you, too, Miss Corduroy."

Wendy giggled and punched his shoulder. "Stop channeling Ford!"

He put his arms around her. "Speaking just as Dipper Pines—will you marry me, Wendy Corduroy?"

She drew up her knees and cuddled close. "Speaking as a gawky lumberjack girl—as soon as possible, Mason Alexander Dipper Wonderful Pines."

"Whoa!" he said. "You know, the more you stroke it, the bigger it gets!"

"I'm not touching-!"

"My ego," he said. "What did you think I meant?"

And so, before they resumed their run, on a sunny hillside with cranes swooping high overhead like flights of angels—

They wrestled.

Just a little.

* * *

Stanley was agreeable to a trip in—he still loved to drop in at the Shack, and Soos's kids were more than fond of Gampa, as Little Soos called him. He showed up at one, when Dipper had a break, and Vlad ambled in a few minutes later. Dipper winced. To pass as ordinary and blend into the crowd, Vlad had donned a violent purple and green Hawaiian shirt, cargo pants, and white sneakers. He also had a camera hung around his neck, though it was obviously an antique, dating back maybe to the 1920s. It probably hadn't been used since then. Vampires didn't photograph.

Soos had said it would be fine to use the office, so they met there. "Grunkle Stan," Dipper said, "this is Vladimir Ravenwood. He's visiting for a few days."

"Hiya, Vlad," Stan said, pulling out the desk chair. "Call me Stan. Take a load off, the armchair's the most comfortable."

"Thank you!" Vlad said as they shook hands. "I will. Nice weird place you got here!"

Dipper settled into the straight chair and watched as the two older guys sat down and very obviously started to size each other up. He almost grinned.

"Aw, yeah," Stan said, leaning back with a sigh. "I put thirty years of my life into buildin' this place up into the tourist trap you see today! Me and my twin brother are still joint owners. I mean, we _own_ the joint, but I've retired from full-time management. My good buddy Soos Ramirez is running it now. OK, I know you want to get to business, my nephew Dipper here says you want to consult me on a financial proposition. I'm listening."

"Business, finances, yes, in a way," Vlad said. "Let me put on the table all the Tarot cards, OK? Me, I am a bloodsucker."

"Lawyer, huh?" Stan asked, frowning.

Vlad blinked. "What? No. A vampire."

Stan slapped the table with the palm of his hand and laughed. "Oh, thank God! I thought it was somethin' bad! Hey, I come from Jersey. Know how come they got most of the toxic waste sites and California has most of the lawyers?"

"New Jersey got first pick!" Vlad said, and both old guys laughed. The vampire looked around, beaming. "Dipper, I like this man! This man, he is a great man, I can tell!"

Stan modestly brushed the praise aside. "Seriously, though, you're a vampire. Interested in doing a guest shot here at the Shack? Terrifying tales of terror? Reminiscences to entrance the tourists? I can offer you a lucrative deal!"

"No, but I truly appreciate the offer. It's refreshing, you take it in stride, you accept me as I am, you don't grab a mallet and a stake. A real gentleman! OK, no, I can't do that, the few of us in the Crypt—excuse me, I use jargon. We call the vampires in the main families the Crypt, it's sort of a secret society. OK, so we Cryptics swear off human blood, live on animal blood, you know—though I wouldn't say no to a beer and pastrami sandwich, old habits die hard—anyway, we no longer prey on mortals, but we keep, you know what they say, under the radio. Radar, excuse. But money, nah, I got loads. What I want to do, I want to somehow use it to get to Mr. Preston Northwest."

Stanley nodded. "Let me stop ya a minute, Vlad. Straight talk, one _alte kaker_ to another, you go into business with Northwest, you're gonna regret it. Better a stake through the heart, I'd say! You know how a shark has no mercy? A shark could learn lessons from Preston Northwest!"

"He's got a pretty little daughter," Vlad said.

Stan's eyes misted. "Yeah, Pacifica. Poor kid. I seen her when she was all, you know, vulnerable and scared. Her old man tried to cut a deal with a demon, right in front of her. That's the kind of guy he is."

"I heard from Dipper he's reformed some."

Dipper said, "Remember that Christmas, he stepped in—"

Stan nodded. "Yeah, and he did clean up his act. He's got a manufacturin' plant here in the valley, used to dump shit-loads of pollution in the waters. You wouldn't believe the environmental damage! And mutations! Cows with nine legs, bears with a dozen heads—crazy stuff! Anyways, he did fix that, but I think maybe that was partly because the Feds were onto him."

"He _is_ better," Dipper said. "But he needs to treat Pacifica like a person and not like some kind of kid-shaped robot."

Stan nodded. "And why do you want to change him?" he asked Vlad.

"Speaking frankly, I got a nephew about Dipper's age, he fell hard for Pacifica. But he's one of the Cryptics, you know, no real chance of a lasting relationship. Still, they're young, I think they could be happy together without its leading to the altar, you know what I mean, so for his sake, my nephew Dirk's, I want to make sure Pacifica don't get treated like dirt."

"Dip," Stan said, "you know this Dirk?"

"I met him," Dipper said. "Mabel's known him for three years. She vouches for him."

"Good enough for me," Stan said. "I'd trust Mabel before I'd trust myself."

"Anybody would," Dipper couldn't help saying.

Again, Stan laughed. "Zing! Get him! Three years ago, this kid was scared of me! Now he speaks his mind. Good for you, Dipper!" He thought a minute. "OK, here's the pitch: You and me, we're old friends. You're looking for investment opportunities. I suggest Northwest Enterprises. I happen to know they're expanding and raising capital. So, I call Northwest and set up a meet for after hours—you want to keep this quiet, you're private with your investing. Say we meet here, or if Northwest wants, at his place, or at his office, whatever, around five, sic o'clock. That do?"

"Only perfect."

"Great! I'll make the call, but first—you got the afternoon free?"

"Free as a bat."

"'Cause there's a seedy little dive downtown, the Skull Fracture, and now and then they got a poker game in the back room. At the very least, you and me could get a couple beers and a couple pastrami sandwiches."

"Stanley Pines!" Vlad said. "I have not set one foot inside a seedy little low dive since Prohibition!" Then he grinned. "But, I'm a thousand miles from the wife and family, so it's about time to renew old habits. And if there's a game, you and me against the marks?"

"You got it," Stanley said. "With my card luck and your vampire skills, we oughta clean 'em out! Dipper, your break's up. Go back to work, and you ain't heard nothing."

"Yes, sir, Grunkle Stan," Dipper said.

He went back to his cash register, hearing behind him the shared laughter of two old rogues.

And he started to feel hopeful about Pacifica's chances of healing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **8: Make Him an Offer . . .**

Dipper was surprised when Pacifica showed up in the Mystery Shack that afternoon. "Hi," she said. She looked—OK, not real happy, not sad, and most important, not like a vampire.

"Oh, hi," he said. "That's a pretty outfit."

"Eh," she said, shrugging. She was wearing a standard outfit for her—hot pink top, jeans, designer sneakers. She stood in front of the counter looking a little uncertain, as if she couldn't quite recall why she had come to the Shack. "That was a good concert, I thought. Thanks for letting me and, um, my, the boy I met, have your seats."

She had looked so confused that Dipper thought _She doesn't even remember Dirk's name._ And he regretted that—he and Wendy had spent part of the summer restoring the memories of selected victims of the Blind Eye Society (they had got through the G's so far), and Pacifica's losing her knowledge of Dirk seemed too much like the effects of the memory-eraser gun.

"It's OK," Dipper said. "Wendy and I had already left. I'm glad Mabel spotted you. She enjoyed sitting with you."

"Is Mabel around?" Pacifica asked.

"Oh, sure, probably out back with Widdles and Waddles. She's getting sort of sentimental about having to leave them again." And Dipper could have bitten his tongue because when he mentioned leaving, Pacifica's expression saddened. He added, "Hey, she wants to go shoe shopping. Maybe you could go with her?"

"I _love_ shopping for shoes!" Pacifica said. She smiled. "Dipper, I'm going to miss you guys worse than ever this fall."

"We'll keep in touch," Dipper said. "And there's always next summer."

A customer loaded with an armful of souvenirs came lumbering up and Pacifica said, "You're busy. I'll go find Mabel. I can drive her to the mall."

Dipper didn't remind her that, though a licensed driver, she was not yet old enough to drive with only a teenager in the car with her. Oregon law required an adult, too. But, hey, the state cops never patrolled the Valley, and if one of Blubs's officers stopped her, Pacifica would blow that off—she was a Northwest.

Wendy had taken a bunch of tourists out on the Mystery Trail, and Soos as Mr. Mystery was working the gift shop and museum. As Pacifica headed for the back door, Dipper heard Soos speak to her—cheerfully—but didn't understand what they were saying. A few minutes later Wendy returned and came into the gift shop. When Dipper had a moment, she said, "That's Pacifica's Miagi in the lot, right?"

"Yeah. She came for a visit. I think she's out back with Mabel. They're going shoe-shopping."

"How is she?" Wendy seemed a little on edge, a little anxious.

"I think Vlad's hypnotism is wearing off a little. She's OK, but she doesn't remember much about Woodstick. And she's not, you know, despondent or anything, but she's sort of . . . I don't know. A little distant, and a little sad? She said she's going to miss Mabel and me more than ever."

"Guess I better go touch bases with her," Wendy said. "Wish me luck."

"Remember, be yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see." Wendy went outside, and Dipper got busy with the tourists who'd just come in from the Mystery Trail and who were eager for souvenirs.

By the time that rush had ebbed, as he came out from behind the counter to straighten up some merchandise—people always picked things up and put them back in the wrong bins or on the wrong shelves—he glanced out the window and saw Mabel and Pacifica getting into the Miagi, the top down on this hot August Day, and they set off for Gravity Malls.

Wendy came back in and helped tidy the displays. "So, she's OK so far," Wendy said. "Her parents bought the story, but they've put her on notice that she's gotta behave for the rest of the summer, at least until school starts. Not grounding exactly, but probation, I guess. Dip, I don't know how to make her dad show more interest in what she's going through emotionally. I just _don't_. My dad never even asks me about my feelings. What about yours?"

Dipper shook his head. "Dad's more tuned into Mabel. Mom—well, she sort of _tells_ me how I'm feeling. But then again, Dad can be pretty sharp. He caught on that you and I were closer than just friends, and Mom hasn't tumbled to that yet."

"What _is_ it with parents?" Wendy asked.

Dipper sighed. "I don't know. I think my folks are good parents, especially compared to some other kids' families. But—maybe it's them, maybe it's me. It's hard to share things. I mean, Dad finally started paying more attention to me when I went out for track, but we're still not what I'd call buddies. Mom—she couldn't care less about my being on the track team. She just wants me to get a good education and a good job, so on and so forth. At least, that's all she ever talks about, unless I bring up something, and then it's 'Well, you might talk to the counselor about that.' I don't need a counselor, I need a mom!"

"Yeah," Wendy said. "But when you're in trouble—that time you hurt your ankle and had to go to the hospital—they were both there for you. And I know Dad would have my back if I ever had some real big problem." She chuckled. "You know, all those months his leg was healing and Junior and me had to handle the business? I mean, I cut trees, I cleared some land for some people, lots of weekends I went out and did twelve-hour days, then went back to school on Mondays. It was hard work, you know? Dad didn't pay me or even once say 'thank you.'"

"That's Manly Dan's pride," Dipper said. "He's proud of you. I know that back in the spring, he told Stan once, 'I couldn't get along without my Baby Girl. If she hadn't pitched in, my whole business would have folded.'"

"He tells Stan, but he won't tell _me_ ," Wendy said. "Yeah, I know, he thought _he_ should've been out there choppin' trees and haulin' lumber, even when he had to use a walker. But he paid Junior! And he'd tell Junior that he did a good job. That's all I want, really, not money. Just a pat on the back from him."

"I know why he's reluctant to tell you that. It's because he doesn't _want_ you to be a lumberjack," Dipper said.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Hah! Then why'd he make me learn all those skills?"

They were alone in the gift shop—the tourists had left, and no buses were due. It was so close to closing time that they'd probably not have any more customers. Dipper took her hand. "Wendy—that's what he knows. Like I said, Manly Dan's a proud man. He's the best carpenter and lumberjack in the county. Heck, probably in the state. And his proudest possession is his skill set. And he gave it all to you. It was the best gift he had to give you. It's precious to him. Like you."

Wendy looked surprised, thoughtful, and then teary-eyed. She smiled. "You know, that's some mature stuff, Dip. You sure you're too young to get married?"

"Just two more years," he said.

They kissed, not even caring if Soos or Melody or Abuelita or a family of tourists walked in.

No one did, so they kissed again.

* * *

Preston Northwest had lost two-thirds of his fortune in the crash accompanying Weirdmageddon. He'd been forced to sell the Northwest mansion to hang onto the mud flap factory. He'd also had to lease the office building he owned on Lake Street to other tenants. Instead, he'd rented a small business-zoned bungalow on the edge of downtown and had repurposed it as the headquarters of Northwest Amalgamate Consolidated Enterprises.

Stan and Vlad, each of them a hundred dollars or so richer after a friendly game of poker in the back room of the Skull Fracture, sauntered into the reception room at five-thirty. A secretary was typing away at a computer keyboard. She looked up and smiled—she was a middle-aged woman (Priscilla screened Preston's female office employees) with graying hair and a thin, lined face. Stan knew her—Madeline Feldspar, a mainstay of the Catholic church and a good friend of Melody's—and greeted her.

"Hello, Mr. Pines," she said with a smile. "Mr. Northwest is expecting you gentlemen." She buzzed an intercom and when Northwest's voice said, "Yes?" she told him that his five-thirty was here.

"Send them in," Preston said.

Preston's office had a picture window looking out over a well-kept flower garden. It might have been the office of a prosperous insurance broker, or a state senator, except for the big shadow boxes hanging on the wall and containing samples of America's Finest Mud Flaps.

"Mr. Pines, Mr.—" Preston's quick glance at a note on his desk was almost too smooth to notice—"Raventree, please have a seat. May I offer you gentlemen anything? Coffee? Tea? No?"

"It's a matter of business, Mr. Northwest," Stan said. "Look, I don't need to be in on this, it's big-time finance and all, I'm just a minor leaguer. I'll go chat with Madeline, see how her grandson's doing."

Preston blinked. "Her grandson?"

"Freddie?" Stan said. "Chased the ball into the street, a car hit him? That was last month. He's not hurt bad, but banged up, you know."

"Oh, I—I hadn't heard."

Vlad gave Stan a glance that carried a silent message of disgust.

"Well, I just want to see how the kid is," Stan said. "But first, my friend Vladimir here. Vlad Raventree of Illinois. He's an investor, keeps things on the quiet side, but I'll tell you, you're looking to expand, he's looking for opportunities. You two can do business."

On more familiar ground, Preston smiled. "We welcome committed investors," he said. "This is an exciting time to be in the electronic communications mud flap business!"

"I'll leave you to it," Stan said.

He stepped out. Madeline was sitting at her desk, unoccupied. Stan perched his hip on the edge of the desk. "So, how's Freddie?"

She smiled wearily. "The bandages are off. The skin graft on his leg is taking, but it looks awful, still bruised and with bloody stitches and all. Of course, he's proud of it. He keeps showing it off!"

"That's a nine-year-old for you," Stan said. "I'm glad it wasn't worse."

Madeline shook her head. "It was so scary. And Bernice Zukowski—she was driving, you know—she was so upset! It wasn't her fault, and we all knew that and didn't blame her. I mean, his friends all saw it, Freddie just ran out between two parked cars, and Bernice barely grazed him and knocked him down, but she was only going about fifteen miles an hour—anyway, she wanted to pay the doctors' bills, but insurance covered them. And, like I say, Freddie's bragging about it now and showing off his war wounds."

"Am I remembering right? He's gonna be ten in a day or two?" Stan asked.

Madeline smiled. "How do you know that?"

"Day or two. Yeah, I recall 'cause he had his fifth birthday party at the Shack. August 20, right?"

"That's right! You have such a wonderful memory!"

"Comes from keepin' track of cards," Stan said. "Speaking of which—" he took out his wallet and counted out five twenties. "Here you go. Get Freddie a nice birthday present."

"Oh! Stanley, I can't take this!"

"Not for you, it's for the kid," Stan said. "I had some luck today, and I wanna share the wealth. Tell ya what, make you a deal, have Freddie's parents throw his birthday party in the Shack, with the hundred the expenses will be a wash. Soos will put together a terrific bash for him. Freddie will be a hero to his friends." He looked at his watch. "Forgot to tell you, Mr. Northwest said you can take off if all the data entry's done. You don't need to check with him."

"Oh, thank goodness! I didn't want to disturb him, he gets so upset if you break in on a conference. About the party, I'll have Mitzi call Mr. Ramirez to set things up—but I don't know, it's only two days—"

"Not a problem. My niece Mabel is still in town," Stan said. "She can organize a party in two minutes! Go, go, you're off the clock. And give Mitzi, Jim, and Freddie my best!"

Madeline changed her shoes and got her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. As she stood up, she paused to say, "Gravity Falls is lucky to have a nice man like you, Stanley Pines."

He made a face that morphed into a grin. "Eh, thanks, but—don't let it get around! I got a reputation to live down to."

When she had left, he locked the front door behind her and then quietly opened the door to the inner office. "How's it goin?" he asked Vlad.

"He's remorseful," Vlad said, stepping aside so Stan could see.

Sitting straight upright in his chair behind his desk, Preston Northwest stared at nothing. He didn't seem to hear them or see them. Rivers of tears streamed from his eyes and dripped from his chin.

Vlad spoke quietly: "I spoke with him under hypnosis, showed him the error of his ways. Now for the crappy way he's treated his sweet daughter, he's crying."

"It's about damn time," Stan growled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Before You Go**

 **(August 17-21, 2015)**

* * *

 **9: Questions and Memories**

 **From the Journals of Dipper Pines:** _Wednesday, 9:30 PM—At six this afternoon, we just closed the Mystery Shack for the night after a busy day. Wendy, Mabel, Teek, and I planned to go out for an early dinner—Teek's mom has relented, and she and his dad have semi-ungrounded Teek, provided he only drives to work and back home and gets in no later than ten every night, and he's just left for home, so it should be OK._

 _Anyway, as I said, we left the Shack for a bite to eat around six , but as we started out, we met Pacifica. She asked where we were going, and we invited her to go along with us. Teek and Mabel drove to the restaurant in his car, and Pacifica, Wendy, and I went in Wendy's. I let Pacifica share the front seat with Wendy—Paz still looks a little shaky to me—and I sat alone in the back seat._

 _We'd decided to drive a little way out of the valley to the Dine-a-Mite in Hirschville. It was supposed to be good, but we'd never tried it. It was about a half-hour drive, and I think Pacifica just forgot I was sitting quiet in the back seat, right behind her. She started talking to Wendy, and I guess I sort of . . . listened in._

* * *

"I just blacked out," Pacifica said. "I've been trying and trying to remember anything about when I was stuck, but I don't know, it's like I just dreamed it. Am I crazy?"

"No, you're not," Wendy said. "The experience was just, you know, traumatic for you. Don't let it worry you."

"I can't _help_ it," Pacifica said. She was silent for a few moments, and then, timidly, she asked, "Could someone have given me a drug without me knowing about it?"

"Did you ask Mabel that?" Wendy said. "I mean, she was there with you at Woodstick, right?"

"I did ask her. She says she would've noticed, and I didn't eat or drink anything at the concert. I kind of remember driving off from the festival, and maybe there was somebody with me, a boy—oh, it's awful, not remembering!"

"Don't push it," Wendy advised kindly. "You were alone, scared, you know. Stress makes people react in weird ways. I'll bet if you don't obsess on it, it'll all come back to you. How's it at home now?"

Pacifica sounded a little puzzled. "Good. I guess it's good. Father came home and wanted to sit down with Mom and me. He—this is so weird—he hugged me. I don't remember him hugging me like that since Weirdmageddon."

She was quiet for a few minutes. "He said—he told me he was sorry. I mean, it was my fault, I got myself lost, but he said not for that, he was sorry for—for not being a decent dad to me."

She didn't speak about all the details. She didn't tell of how a red-eyed Preston, his voice hoarse and apologetic, had said, "I always wanted to provide the best for you and your mother. I always wanted that. The trouble was I let myself be blinded by greed. It's a horrible thing, greed. It makes you think that nothing you do's wrong—if it brings you more money. I was blind, Pacifica. I was stupid and blind. I'm going to change."

"You're not—going to try to make a lot of money now?" Pacifica had asked, astonished.

"Oh, no, I'll try to make all the money I can. I mean, I want to be _decent_ , but not _crazy_. Money still matters. But I'm going to worry less about it and give you and your mother more of my time. And—this is hard for me to say, but I hope you'll know that I mean it sincerely—if you're ever in trouble, if you ever are frightened or confused, please—please come to me. Don't be afraid of that, don't be reluctant. I love you, Pacifica. I swear, whatever I'm doing, I'll drop it and help you all I can."

And the rest of the evening had passed in an emotional blur. Pacifica didn't tell Wendy about all that.

But she did say, "Daddy apologized for ignoring me and said he'd try to be a better father. He promised not to try to force me to do things I don't want to do—like going back to private school So I can finish up high school at GFH. Then he said if I don't want to go to college, I don't even have to, but if I do—I can pick any college I want. I—I'm not sure how to deal with that."

"Take it, girl!" Wendy said. "He's offering you freedom. Think about it. That's beautiful, it means he trusts you! So, yeah, do what you want. Oh, I don't mean just go anywhere to spite him. Me, I'd talk it over with my dad, get his advice, but after that, it would be up to you to decide. Pick what you think's best for you."

"I've never had that responsibility before," Pacifica almost whispered.

"You've never been sixteen before," Wendy pointed out. "You're growing up, girl."

"I guess I am. Uh, Wendy? Did you talk over college with Manly Dan?" Pacifica asked.

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, sorta. He was all like, "I never went to college, Baby Girl, so I don't know nothing about it. But you pick out one you like, and you get in, and then I'll help you pay for it as much as I can."

Pacifica giggled. "He calls you 'Baby Girl?' Really?"

"Yeah," Wendy said softly. "He says he and Mom were so happy to have a baby girl that looked—" her voice caught a little—"looked like her, that he always thinks of me like that. Doesn't matter how freaky tall I get. I'm always his baby girl."

Pacifica sounded contrite: "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," Wendy told her. "I just get a little misty about Mom sometimes, 'cause she died when I was so young, I barely remember anything about her. And Dad won't ever talk about her. It makes him get all teary-eyed, and he hates for me to see him like that, 'cause he thinks it makes him look weak." She sniffled. "Funny, 'cause the truth is, when he's like that about my mom, to me he stands ten feet tall."

"He must really have loved her. I don't think he's weak at all."

"Thanks, Paz." For a couple of miles Wendy drove in silence. Then she asked, "You still coming to Mabel's sleepover Saturday night?"

Pacifica mustered some enthusiasm. "Sure. It's going to be epic!"

"Last one of the summer, and Mabel says she's planning a big blow-out. Which probably means tons of candy and desserts and stuff I shouldn't eat. But, hey, like I said, it's the last one of the summer, so—"

"I'm going to miss her so much," Pacifica said. "She's special. That first summer, I was really mean to her and Dipper. I look back on it and cringe. I just—I don't want to be like that. But it's hard to change. I've told her how sorry I am. You know what? She just let all of that go. She and Dipper are forgiving and accepting, and I wish I could be like them. Mabel—the night before we went into the Fearamid, she gave me a—well, you know, you got one, too. I still wear the sweater sometimes." A little more silence. Then: "You know I got a crush on Dipper after he came to the house that time about the ghost, don't you?"

"Yep," Wendy said. "But—well, you know. Feelings happen."

"He told me it wouldn't work with us, and I guess I can see that now. But I like him a lot, still."

"I like you, too," Dipper said, making Pacifica yip.

"I totally forgot you were back there!" she said, half-turning in the seat. She put both hands over her face. "Oh, my God, I'm so embarrassed!"

"You don't have to be," Dipper said. "Look, Pacifica, I want you to be happy. I think we all do. You'll find somebody special."

"I hope so. I thought it was Adam," Pacifica said, turning away again. "But—it's not. He's nice, but—he lets me push him around. That's bad for me and bad for him. And I like him, but—I don't feel romantic toward him, and he's the same with me. We talked it out, and we're breaking it off. No fight or anything. We'll still be friends, but—no dating."

"Dip's nailed it," Wendy said. "You'll meet somebody when the stars are right. Just don't try to rush it. It takes a lot of time to really get close to someone in the right ways. And you've got time. Just treat people well next year in school. If you want to have friends, be a friend. I don't know, join the clubs, go to the dances. Laugh at yourself when silly things happen, and you'll be happy when others join in. You won't feel like they're picking on you. Oh, you know. Be yourself, dah dah de-da dah. You'll make friends. One of them will be a guy and you'll feel a little magic. It'll happen. And if you need somebody to talk to about that or anything, I'm gonna be there all this coming school year—I'm finishing up two lousy credits so I can graduate!"

"Just two?" Pacifica asked.

"Hey, I'm not dumb," Wendy said. "It's not like I failed every class. I just had some serous crap one year that distracted me, and I got behind. Yeah, I've made up the two classes, but because I had to take make-up sessions the term after I screwed up, I'm still two credits short. Didn't plan it too well, 'cause I can't take them both in the same term. Gonna take one fall and then one in the spring—short days! But I'll be at school in the mornings for at least a couple of hours every day. May hang around longer if I join some clubs. Anyway, you can find me if you need me, and if you can't, call me."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to graduate with Robbie and Tambry," Pacifica said.

"No biggie. I've dealt with it. Hey, Dip, is that the place ahead?"

"I don't know," Dipper said, leaning forward and peering through the windshield. He could see a white-and-green electric sign, but from where he was sitting he couldn't read it. "I've never been there."

"That's it," Pacifica told her. "I see Mabel and Teek turning in."

"Hope the food's worth the drive," Wendy said, signaling for the turn.

* * *

And at about the same time. . ..

"So, when you headin' back?" Stan asked Vlad. They were in the TV room of the McGucket mansion, relaxing with a couple of beers.

Vlad shrugged. "Not until the weekend. I need to rest up first. I'm old, and I hate flying."

"Me too!" Stan said. "You got a fear of heights?"

"Nah, a touch of arthritis. My wings get tired after five hundred miles."

Stan laughed. "Oh, yeah, I forgot—you don't have to take a plane!"

"Psssht," Vlad said. "Planes, you can have 'em! The ticket prices they charge, it's robbery!"

Stan cupped his hand and gestured in frustration. "I know, right? And you get like no leg room. And they started makin' you _pay_ for checkin' luggage, and there's never any room in those little bins, except you fly first class, which costs a buttload _more_ money!"

"In the old days," Vlad said, "it was different. Flying was fun back then! You and some buddies, maybe you'd get a yen to go to New Orleans, you'd take off on a night of the full moon, you'd tell dirty jokes on the way down, something to enjoy! Now everybody my age is set in his ways, you ask them to take a little flight with you, it's 'No, can't, million things to do.' Not like it was!"

"Yeah the old days were the good days."

Vlad nodded emphatically. "I believe you! Say, talking of trips, you ever been to New Orleans?"

"Passed through," Stan said. "Didn't stay."

Vlad sipped his beer and patted his lips with a napkin. "You should go sometime, the history, the architecture, the music, it's amazing. Avoid hurricane season. Mardi Gras is crazy, who wants to see a bunch of mortal women baring their chests for these silly little necklaces? Well, I guess a lot of guys do, 'cause I seen some with like four hundred necklaces on 'em! But, you know, you get to be my age, the appeal is less. And the crowds, they make you _tsedrait!_ So, go maybe right after Passover, nice time of year, weather's usually good. Take your wife. Oh, one thing. I gave you my card?"

"Already got your number on my phone," Stan said.

Vlad clicked his tongue. "The card you should keep too, in your wallet. New Orleans, some of the vampires they got there, they think they're king of the undead, you know? Still like to push regulars around, sometimes even put the old bite on 'em for kicks. You have one bit of trouble with 'em, you show 'em my card, they'll let you alone, believe me. Here, take another, I got tons."

"Thanks," Stan said, accepting the card and tucking into his pocket. "And if you ever have any trouble in Jersey or Philly, I got contacts both places. Just call on me, I'll fix it. Say—how's the gambling in New Orleans?"

Vlad shrugged. "Eh, one casino in the town, but a few more an easy drive. One on a boat parked on the lake! Slots all over the place, you like to play 'em."

"Nah," Stan said. "When I gamble, I want to hold cards or roll dice. Slots are a sucker's game."

"On this, we agree," Vlad said. "Hey, by the way, thank your friend with the strange name for me. I appreciate his putting me up here. Saves me a hotel bill!"

"McGucket and his wife are always happy to let a friend of ours stay," Stan said.

"Yeah, he and his wife are good people. One look, I can always tell. And your wife—sweet woman, that Sheila, Stanley! You are a lucky guy. Hang onto her. If I was a hundred years younger, I'd flirt with her!"

Stan just grinned. He knew Vlad was joshing. The old vampire sighed. "Tomorrow early I got to go to the old cemetery," he said.

"I'll drive you if you want. You visitin' your grand-nephews?"

"Many thanks, but no, I'll go alone. Just one nephew. The one the little Pacifica girl was glamourized by. The other's gone to stay with his folks until next Monday. I'd ask you to come with, but—it's vampire business, Stanley. Family stuff. And not very pleasant."

"If I can help in any way—"

Vald waved him off. "No, no, kind of you, and thanks for the thought, but you can't. It's gonna be a very rough thing, but—it must be done. I can see that." He sighed again. "Ah, Stanley, wouldn't it be wonderful if you could make all the decisions for the kids?"

"Nah," Stan said, drinking the last of his beer. "It'd stink. How would they every learn to be wise old farts like us?"

It was Vlad's turn to laugh. "Good point!" he said. "That is an excellent point." He lifted his stein. "One last beer, and then I'm turning in. I thought when my nephew called, oy, this is gonna be such a _tsuris_. I hated the flight, but I get here, lo and behold, the regulars and the vampires aren't at, you should pardon the expression, each other's throats! Why can't everybody get along everywhere the way they do in Gravity Falls?"

"'Cause Gravity Falls is a special place," Stan said, opening the chilled bottles and pouring the beers.

Vlad clinked steins with him. "It _is_ a special place, this Gravity Falls," he said, "because the people are special. That's why. _L'chaim!"_

Stan repeated the toast. It was kind of a peculiar one, coming from an undead guy, but it sounded sincere to Stan.

"To life!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Before You Go**

 **By William Easley**

* * *

 **(August 21, 2015)**

 **10: All's Well That Ends**

On Friday morning, Preston Northwest's secretary tapped on his office door and said, "You have two visitors, sir."

"Visitors?" Northwest asked, surprised. "I don't have any appointments—"

"Your daughter and a young man," the secretary whispered.

Preston bit back an angry response. _Try to be a better father,_ he reminded himself. It was a decision, he had come to realize, that he would have to make every single day for the rest of his life. "Well, I don't have anything until ten. Thanks, Madeline, and tell them I'll meet them in the conference room."

She left, he stood up, took some deep breaths, and then went through a side door into the conference room. The old one, pre-Weirdmageddon, could accommodate fifty people This one had room for about a dozen.

He found Pacifica and a tall, thin, dark-haired boy waiting for him. "Let's just pull out some chairs," he suggested. The idea of him taking the head of the table seemed ridiculous. "I don't believe I know you," he said to the boy. Of course, he didn't. He didn't know any of Pacifica's friends, except for the Pines twins and that redheaded girl. And just then, he couldn't even remember her name.

"Dad," Pacifica said, "This is Dirk."

"No," the teen boy said awkwardly. "I, uh, that—I just called myself that. To sound cooler, sir. My name is Daniel Raventree."

"Daniel." They shook hands. "Sit down, sit down."

They did. Preston looked thoughtful. "Raventree, Raventree. Are you related to the Raventree family that were early settlers here?"

"Yes, sir. My grand—uh, I guess I don't know exactly what the relationship is, but one of my ancestors settled here in 1865, just a couple of years after, uh, the town was, you know, founded. I, my parents live in Washington State now, but, well, I wanted to come here. Because of my family history. So, uh, I'm going to be in high school here for the next two years. And, uh, I met Pacifica at the music festival."

"Oh, I see," Preston said. "Are you the young man she drove home?"

"Yes, sir, I am." Daniel cleared his throat and said, "I just found out about Pacifica's, uh, car trouble, and I feel awful about it. She was, you know, very nice to me, and, well, I should have checked on her, but I didn't think about it, and I didn't have her phone number or anything. She, she, uh, we talked, you know, at Woodstick, and she was kind enough to offer me a ride when my cousin forgot to pick me up. And we didn't exchange phone numbers, or I would have called the next day, but I didn't know what happened until I met someone in town this morning who told me about her trouble—Wendy?"

Oh, yes, that was the redheaded girl's name. "One of Pacifica's friends," Preston said, nodding.

"Yes, sir. So, I wanted to come and see you and tell you the whole thing, her staying out so late and getting lost and her car running out of gas after she made a wrong turn, all of that wasn't her fault. It was mine, because she wouldn't have been there if she hadn't given me a ride home. I apologize, sir. I should have followed up and made sure she got home safely."

Preston nodded. "That would have been a friendly thing to do," he agreed. He noticed something—Pacifica was silent, but her attention was rapt on the young man. He remembered that, though the Raventree family had moved away, they were rumored to be very wealthy. And his practiced eye told him that Daniel's clothing was top of the line—it looked simple, but it was the simplicity the very rich favored. Old money. New money flaunted wealth by overdressing in ostentatiously designer-labeled outfits. Old money—well, you might mistake the scion of old money for a poor person, until you noticed how expensively durable the shoes, jeans, and shirt were. "However," Preston added, forcing himself to think of something other than cash value, "no harm done. I appreciate your coming to see me, though. It's a thoughtful gesture." Awkward pause. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow night, young man, why not come and have dinner with us? We live not far outside of town. Pacifica can give you the address."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said. "I'd like that very much."

"We'd better go," Pacifica said softly. "Daddy probably has appointments."

"I do," Preston said, glancing at his Rolex. "Well—until tomorrow, Daniel."

"That went better than I was afraid it would," Pacifica said as they left the offices. Wendy waited outside, leaning against her Dodge Dart.

"Everything cool?" the tall redhead asked.

"Yes, thanks," Pacifica said. "I think Dad likes Dirk—Daniel, I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Daniel said. They got into the car, and Wendy drove them to the Mystery Shack, where Pacifica had left her own car.

They met the others up in the attic. Morning business was slack, and Soos and Melody held down the fort. Dipper and Mabel had moved some chairs up to Dipper's room, where Vlad Raventree, Grunkle Stan, and the twins waited, chatting. "So," Vlad said as Wendy, Pacifica, and his great-nephew came in, "how's your first day?"

"So far, so good," Daniel said. "Thanks, Uncle Vlad."

"You got a lot to re-learn," Vlad said.

"He can do it," Stan said. "He's a smart kid."

Daniel blushed. He hadn't blushed since—well, since becoming a vampire. Vampires can't blush.

"This is so _romantic_!" Mabel gushed. "Love at first sight! And it's so powerful that Daniel got himself unvampirized just for Pacifica!"

"We all know that," Dipper pointed out.

"Yeah, but narratively, some people may not," Mabel shot back.

"It's scary, being mortal," Daniel confessed. "I'm going to need help."

"Don't worry," Mabel said. "In Gravity Falls, people are used to unusual people, like vampires and werewolves. In three months or less you'll fit right in!"

Vlad asked, "You're set for a place to live, all that stuff?"

Daniel nodded. "Mom and Dad are going to give me a nice allowance. I'm supposed to be living with an older cousin. I think we can cover that."

Stan volunteered, "I can probably find you a decent place to live. I know some landlords, not snoopy about their tenants. I know one guy who rents to a werewolf, no problem."

"I'll throw in a car," Vlad said. "You need transportation. Nothing flashy, nothing sporty, something good and solid. And you learn to drive good, and you drive careful, you hear me?"

"If Daniel wants me to, I can help him choose a good, sound car," Stan said. "I got a friend here local who's in the business. Fact, he's the guy who rents to the werewolf! So if you want me to help, just say the word."

"Thank you," Daniel said.

Vlad said, "And I thank you, Stan, and Daniel, you take his advice like I was giving it to you myself, you understand? And remember about driving careful! Now that you're mortal, I don't want you taking chances! You're not a vampire anymore. You remember, from this day on, you ain't gonna regenerate, something drastic happens to you! And if you die as a mortal, that's it, the jig is up, the game is finished. You made a big decision, I don't want to hear about you going back to the vampire life, you hear me?"

"I'll remember," Daniel promised.

"I can teach him to drive," Wendy offered. "But how's he gonna transfer to Gravity Falls High? The last time he was in school was like a hundred years ago or some deal!"

"Leave that to me, too," Stan said. "I know people can make him an expert transcript. I think he oughta be like a solid B, B-plus student. No use overdoin' it. Kid, I gotta admire you. Giving up a practically immortal existence, goin' back to being a regular teenager—that takes guts."

Daniel reached for Pacifica's hand. "It just takes motivation," he said quietly. "Pacifica—I hope I can, you know, be—I don't know how to put it."

Dipper came to his rescue: "Someone worthy of loving."

"Yeah," Pacifica agreed, smiling. "I think Dipper nailed it."

Mabel gave her brother an affectionate punch. "He's good with words!"

Wendy reached for Dipper's hand. "And with lots of other things, too," she said.

Just then Soos called up the stairs: "Tour bus! Tour bus pulling in!"

"Aw," Stan said. "Just when things were gettin' mushy. All right, young people. Love's a wonderful thing. Now get your butts downstairs! Time to go to work!"

And with that, life in Gravity Falls returned to normal. Well, to weird, but in that little town—

Weird _is_ normal.

* * *

 _The End_


End file.
